Home
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home by Walter. Walstrid
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

Nick Lane's young audience stood captivated as they listened to him weave a story of local lore, their bare feet in the thick mud of the dirt walkway leading up to the church steps. The morning was slowly clearing as last night's rain clouds dissipated, the air smelling clean and new albeit slightly cool. The sun had just risen above the large impassible mountains that surrounded the land, filtering through the massive trees that reached towards the sky.

Nick was leaned down slightly to get closer to the eye level of the children listening to him. "Them Wild Things that go boogin' 'round the woods, them the ones y'all ought watch for. They come creepin' 'round, pale demons that want young'uns and weak'uns, to eat 'um and tear 'um up."

His fingers flittered around as he spoke, illustrating his words and the children squealed in fear, a few dancing around nervously as they listened to Mr Nick tell them of the Wild Things. It was a popular story among all of the residents and he told it well.

A young woman approached the cluster of little ones and she put her hands on her hips. Amy Jessup, the children's school teacher, gave the storyteller a very chastising look.

"Ooh, Mr Nick. You makin' the young'uns afeared before they hop along to Pastor Bell."

"Miss Amy, I is simply tellin' 'um about the _Wild Things_!" He punctuated the last part by lurching towards her with his fingers clawed.

"Mr Nick!" Amy shrieked as she stumbled backwards, her hand at her heart.

The children began to laugh and Nick smiled impishly at her, offering his arm to the redfaced teacher.

"That ain't a nice thing to be doin' to your sweetheart, Mr Nick," she scolded as they walked up to the church

"I's just story tellin'," he said innocently.

Two blonde sisters, one with a small child named Ella at her heels, walked along the path, talking to one another; they wore cream linen dresses, hems discoloured slightly from their walk through the wet grass. Ella broke away from her mother to join the other small children that had been listening to Nick's stories, skipping over to show them a handful of snail shells.

"I's plannin' on wanderin' o'er to Deep Holler after Church to find some potatoes," the taller of the two blondes said to the other.

Her name was Livia Dunham and her younger sister was Rachel, the mother of Ella. Rachel nodded, her eyes on a man walking up from the path that led from The Flat. She smiled at him, adjusting the tan vest she wore over her dress and fidgeting with her hair. He tipped his hat to both of them, adjusting the banjo he had strapped to his back and entered the Church.

"That Peter Bischoff," she tittered as Livia shook her head, the two following him in.

The Church was an old building, older than anyone in the land where it was located; whitewashed walls made of large split logs, roofing made from fallen redwood bark, rough and frayed from wind, sun, and rain. It was able to fit all the inhabitants of Home quite comfortably, the exact number of seats needed, save for an empty one at the far front row of the pews, but its missing person had all but been forgotten.

At the head of the room was a large pulpit, as old as the church itself and made from a rich red wood. A tree was carved into the front, the Tree of Life and Knowledge, carefully buffed and polished with a smooth cloth and a small vial of oil every morning. Balanced on the edge of the pulpit was a small pewter bell with a wooden handle; the metal had a muted shine in the dim light of the church but could be plainly seen by everyone who was inside.

Behind the pulpit stood a tall, lanky man with a warm smile as he watched his congregation slowly filtering into the small church house. Pastor William Bell wore a tired, once black suit and a clerical collar that had long since become a pale, pale grey. He nodded at his flock, making eye contact with each individual member so as to let them know that he was thankful that they were there to be saved.

The pews were hewn from timbers long since fallen, aged grey and worn from daily usage, faint impressions where backs had been rubbed against. Burlap sacks dyed burgundy from the mulberry trees that grew outside the church and stuffed with grass from the Pastures and bullrush velvet from Lake Reiden formed cushions for the parishioners.

In the front pew to the right of Pastor Bell's pulpit sat the three men who played the instruments for the hymns the parishioners would sing later in the service. Peter Bischoff, Bill Ferguson, and James Carson tuned their guitar and banjos in preparation for the morning ceremony, softly strumming together to find the right notes to play.

Bearing large boughs of woven white flowers called 'White Claudia', a young woman named Astrid approached the front of the church, draping them over the pulpit and alter behind. The Twins, Susan and Nancy, were candle makers and their craft illuminated the entirety of the church, thick smoke creating tendrils through the air, twisting into the rafters high above. The honeycombed wax's pattern was repeated in the single stained glass mosaic above the pulpit, a giant golden hexagon with individual panes replicated hundreds of times over. As they continued lighting the last of the hundreds of candles that burned, the ground cinnamon rolled into the wax and wick began to heat, filling the small house of God with a heady scent of the soft earthy perfume of the White Claudia and the spice, immediately bringing the parishioners into the mindset of the Holy Word.

Annabelle Mathis and Krista Manning passed out the baskets full of folded fans that would later be used to fight the stifling heat that formed in the church house. Hands happily grabbed the folded paper, their fingers grasping the same familiar folds and worn creases of the fans they had day after day.

When everyone was seated, Pastor Bell lifted the small pewter bell off the pulpit and rang it three times to signal the beginning of the service; its sound was sharp and suddenly their minds were clear, united. The congregation as well as Pastor Bell opened their bibles, the sound of their pages turning the only noise in the small room.

"Our people came here a long, long time ago," Pastor Bell started the way he did every morning.

"Long, long time ago," the parishioners agreed in unison.

He nodded, looking down at the woodcutting image in his bible, one of trees and mountains. "We has lived off this land since before we can remember. These mountains of Home has been our home forever. The green grass, the moss, the air, the water-it were all created for us. A paradise for the Lord's children."

"This land is the Garden of Eden," the parishioners said.

"We has been safe here, protected from the outside world. We has been protected from the sin and the darkness."

"We is all born innocent and kept innocent," the congregation agreed, a small note of pride in their voices. "We is all Adam and Eve."

Pastor Bell slammed his hand down on the pulpit. "Man was offered the fruit of knowledge!"

"He said no," they recited.

His hand hit atop the wood again. "Woman was offered the fruit of knowledge!"

"She said no," they recited again.

His arms rose towards the ceiling, fingers swirling through the candles' smoke. "The Lord allowed us eternal paradise!"

"Praise Him!" they shouted.

The parishioners turned the pages of their bibles, glancing down at the woodcutting of The Woods, a lone black silhouette standing among the trees ominously. Instinctively and unconsciously they looked away from the foreboding image, looking to their pastor for comfort. He could feel their unease and he nodded knowingly.

"Now if you's ever met our Mr Nick—" the congregation laughed softly and he smiled, "you's heard the stories of the Wild Things. Them Wild Things, they look like us. They be havin' faces and bodies like us, but they's different. Now we ain't know where they come from, though our legends tell us that they growed in the ground like potatoes, deep in the dark black earth."

"Made like Mandrakes," the congregation recited.

"They's tall and pale, havin' no hair on them. They make no faces of happy or sad. If you be findin' one, they will guide you back to where you ought be. They speak quietly."

"We must listen," the congregation acknowledged.

He glanced down at the woodcut in his own bible, staring at the small blue glow off eyes before returning his attention back to the people who watched him.

"Everhow, them Wild Things, they also creatures of God. He done made us all in his form an' thusly they look like him, too. They has a duty, to protect us, to protect Home. They watch the Woods, they keep the Outsiders from coming in."

"The Outsiders must stay out," the congregation agreed in unison.

Another page was turned, this time showing a woodcut of a jagged, but familiar mountain. It was part of the Forbidden Lands beyond Lake Reiden and it towered over everything in Home. Pastor Bell's fingers traced over the black, rich ink.

"Our stories tell us that they have been here since forever, that they was here before me and you's, that they come from The Dreamlands."

"On Big Rock Candy Mountain," they replied, the hair on their arms standing up at the mention of the Forbidden Lands of their world.

"On Big Rock Candy Mountain, there's a land that's dark as night. Where the hands grow out of branches and you hardly got any sight. Where the ghosts is always wanderin' an' there ain't no such thing as day. No birds, no bees, an' the Giant Trees, where Lake Reiden springs an' the fog done sing," he recited, his words slow and practiced.

"On the Big Rock Candy Mountain," they repeated.

"On the Big Rock Candy Mountain, the Dreamlands wait for them who pray. It the place that take you to the Otherside, but full of temptation all the way. The old trees is full of fruit an' the air is thick an' grey. Oh, you ain't wantin' to go where them Wild Things grow, where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow," he said sombrely.

"On the Big Rock Candy Mountain."

More pages were turned, images noted and commented on until they drew closer to the end of their bibles. One woodcutting in particular drew their attention: three brilliant stars bursting in unison above an open field while people stared up at them. The parishioners looked at the page, studying into with portentous interest.

Pastor Bell closed his eyes and slowly began to sing softly, the acoustics of the small building magnifying and lifting his voice. "When the revenant come down, we couldn't imagine what it were."

The parishioners stood up and the three men in the front pew began to play along as they all joined in.

"In the spirit of three stars, the alien thing that took it'd form. Then to the sky, oh, God…" They breathed in unison, sounding almost as if a soft breeze had entered the church. "The flashin' at night, the bell chime growed and growed…Oh, history involved itself, mysterious shade that took it'd form. Or what it were! Incarnation—three stars! Deliverin' signs and dustin' from them's eyes…"

For a moment, the briefest flicker of hopelessness passed through the people, but then it was gone, most of the parishioners hardly registering it in the first place. Pastor Bell quickly spoke, insuring no one dwelled on the unpleasant sensation.

"Them Wild Things was watchin' the night there was the mighty Flashin' in the Night Sky, waiting to protect us. They seen the things for us the Lord don't want us to see. They be servin' the best interest of Home and our Lord," he reminded them.

"The Night Sky lit up like a million suns, but we knew not to be afeared. The Lord was with us," the congregation remembered aloud.

He nodded. "The Lord gave us this world to protect us. We belongs to it and it ain't belongin' to us."

The parishioners nodded; they were honoured to know that they had been the ones chosen to be part of Home, that they were the ones who lived here.

The sun had finally risen enough past the tree line that it started to shine through the single window in the back, the small panes of amber-coloured stained glass glowing. They'd reached the last page of their holy book, come to the final, but simple image that represented hope: the outline of a flower.

The pastor was unable to hold back the giddy grin and he looked out at his congregation, prompting them to smile as well.

"Lord will give us a sign if we be askin' for one!" he called out passionately.

"The White Tulip!" the congregation cried out, their hearts and spirits lifting.

"Lord, we is waitin' for our White Tulip!" he shouted to the sky.

"Praise Him!" they shouted in return, each one wishing that their Lord could hear their voices.

"We be askin' and the Lord will give us the White Tulip!" the pastor promised.

A handful of of the congregation stood up, throwing their hands high. "Praise Him! Praise Him!"

Pastor Bell smiled, whipping his people into a frenzy of happy shouting. "Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! **Praise the Lord**!"


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

Deep Holler served as the only entrance up to The Pastures and Lake Reiden, the edge of the Woods. The walls of the valley were high and steep, covered with the impossibly large trees of oak, poplar, and redwood. The thick ferns that grew lower to the valley floor had become few and far between, though the thick moss that covered the rocky ground was still growing freely.

North of the Church, Deep Holler wasn't a place where people ventured off the path; it looked no different from the other parts of the Woods, but as it was so close to the emptiness of the Pastures and Lake Reiden, no one dared live so far from other denizens of Home, save one.

However, today there was a young woman who ventured into the deep woods for the first time. A large lidded woven basket was strapped to Astrid's back, making it possible for her to climb up the steep walls of Deep Holler without damaging the precious White Claudia she'd spent the entire afternoon gathering. The hem of her dress had become caked in mud, weighing down the threadbare mauve cotton against her legs. Her toes dug into the dirt as she continued scaling the holler, singing hymns to herself as the sky darkened and threatened rain.

"Why my goodness gracious, lemme tell you the news—my head's done wet with the midnight dew. I been down on bended knee, talkin' to the man who been waitin' for me. He done spoke to me with a voice so sweet, I thought I heard the shuffle of angel feet. He call my name and my heart stood still, when he says _'Child, go do my will!' _Go tell them—"

She stopped abruptly as a pair of bare feet stood in front of her. She looked up, startled, and saw Mr Walter Bischoff, the only man who didn't attend Church in the morning and didn't socialise with anyone in Home. He was…_different_ and even though she knew she shouldn't be, he frightened her somewhat.

"Hello, Miss Asteroid star," he greeted.

"Hello, Mr Walter. You doin' well?" she asked politely, wondering if she'd encroached too much into his part of the Woods.

His voice was quiet and smooth, comforting almost. "Very, very well now that you are here. Would you like to come to my cabin for something to drink? It's mighty stormy out and I wouldn't want you to get wet."

He offered out his hand to her, his lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I reckon I can spare a moment," she admitted, unable to think of a reason why she couldn't.

Astrid looked at his calloused palm, feeling an almost foreign tingle of apprehension, but she suppressed it, knowing there was no reason to be afraid of the older man and she slipped her own hand into his. He carefully pulled her up to her feet, helping her with her basket of flowers and then began to assist her up the holler's steep face, holding her hand gently, but firmly.

"What are you doing out so deep in the forest? I don't think I've ever seen out you here before," he asked as he pulled her along.

"I don't usually stray so far from the main paths, everhow I been needin' more White Claudia and I can't find none in my usual spots," she said allowing him to take her further and deeper into The Woods.

He nodded, saying nothing. Through the trees, along an unseen trail, he navigated through ferns and mossy stones until she could see a covering across the forest floor of periwinkle. Mr Walter's cabin was surrounded by pale blue hyacinths to the point where one couldn't walk without stepping on them. His hand continued pulling her along and she turned around briefly to look at the view he had, giving a soft sigh of awe; through the trees, she was able to over look the entirety of Home, save for The Pastures, Lake Reiden, and Big Rock Candy Mountain. She could see the Church, Big Holler, the smoke from Mr Peter's smokehouse—why, she could even see the path that led through The Flats to Wide Holler!

He set her basket full of flowers down next to the front step, pushing a large burlap sack aside that served as the door. He let go of her hand and she stood in the centre of the single room, watching him as he tied the burlap back to let more light into the cabin. Slowly she looked around, taking in the single bed against the wall under the only window, the wash basin against the wall next to the counter, a fireplace that still had coals in it, and a carved wooden table with two chairs.

There were two repurposed jam jars sitting on the table, filled with a reddish liquid and he offered her one. "It's tea."

She accepted it with a nod. "Thank you."

The drink smelt strange, though not unpleasant and as she sipped it, he pulled out a chair at his table for her to sit on, sitting across from her.

Sometimes she forgot that this reclusive man was Mr Peter's father—they were so different from one another, it was actually easy to forget that he was one of them. The way he spoke was unusual, though she couldn't quite put her finger on what was different. And the fact that he isolated himself—she had a hard time understanding why someone wouldn't want to be part of the community of Home.

She watched him run his fingers across the rim of his jar and she found herself trying to recall something just out of reach...his fingertips touched the glass and as the diamond-cut pattern of the jar began to entrance her, the reddish tea creating an unusual light to the glass. What was it that she was trying to remember? Had she seen him touching glass before? His hands on glass? Glass? His hands?

She shook her head of the hypnotising thoughts and looked up at him. He had an amused smile on his face and her cheeks warmed slightly, wondering if she'd done something that he found humorous.

"You used to come to church. But you ain't come to church…in a long, long time," she commented.

"Long, long time," he echoed in agreement, obviously still remembering they way they spoke of time.

"Why?" she asked curiously.

His eyes bored into her until she stood up, wandering around the cabin to get away. "I had my eyes opened in ways Church could no longer satisfy."

She wasn't sure what to say to something so strange. "The word of the Lord can feed any hunger."

"Not mine."

As she moved about the room, she drank the soothing tea, looking at the strange objects he had collected; unusual drawings and sketches made of charcoal decorated scraps of cloth and bark and were nailed to the wall...tiny jars of single leaves, bits of string, and odd buttons lined the many small shelves he had attached to the wall...

On a small set of shelves by the table is something she didn't notice before, a wooden bowl with a single apple inside of it. Her attention focuses on it, as it seems so out of place in the cabin among the other things. He obviously notices that she's spotted it and he lifted it from the bowl. The apple in his hands was a brilliant crimson skin, a thick gloss that caused it to look as though it were encapsulated in glass. She reached out and took it from him, studying it closely. It was ice cold in her hand, but so beautiful...

"Everwhere did you get one of these apples?" she asked, turning it over in her hands. "It's the prettiest one I ever seen."

He gave a faint smile as his eyes bore into her. "The Dreamlands."

Immediately she recoiled and with unnaturally quick reflexes Mr Walter snatched it out of the air before it hit the ground.

"We ain't supposed to eat them apples. The Dreamland fruits is forbidden," she said very sternly.

"The Apples of Morpheus have been grown for you, little Aster flower," he insisted.

He smiled again and held the apple out to her. The shine in the dim light of the cabin was mesmerising and she found her eyes drawn to it as if she couldn't look away, completely unable to blink.

"I shouldn't," she said, but even she could hear the hesitancy in her voice.

"Taste it," he coaxed gently.

She paused again as the fruit's skin glimmered enticingly, Mr Walter licking his lips as he watched her. She stamped her bare sole on the cabin floor and angrily declared,

"You is leadin' me into temptation like that Snake in the Tree!"

"Shhh, I'll keep you safe," he said softly as he stood up.

He moved faster than she could anticipate and he pinned her against the wall, his body pressed full against her as he pulled a small bottle out of his cardigan's pocket. As she screamed, clawing her fingers against his arms, he popped the top off the bottle and forced her mouth open, pouring a thick molasses-coloured syrup on her tongue. He forced her mouth shut then, pinching her nose closed and she began to choke and gag on the sweet syrup.

"You'll need air sometime, my dear," he said kindly.

Unable to breathe, she was finally forced to swallow—

_Astrid can feel the cool air of the laboratory permeating the layers she's wearing; it never truly gets warm in here, just different levels of bearable. It's a whirlwind and flurry of activity, a slight undercurrent of panic that she's able to detect._

_The man strapped in the chair is convulsing, babbling, froth at the corners of his mouth, eyes rolling. "I don't know. I can hear voices. Una hora locum statuisti."_

"_I think that's Latin," Peter says, turning to her._

_She nods. "It is. He just said, um—damn, what's that word? Hora, um—hour. Something's happening in an hour."_

"_How in the world can you possibly know that?" Peter asks—_

Astrid gasped for air, her eyes shooting wide open. Mr Walter released her from his strict hold and as she stumbled away from the wall, he yelled,

"What did you see?"

"No!" she shouted, her eyes watering and her chest painfully tight.

"You saw the Otherside, didn't you?" he hissed, his eyes wild and dangerous looking.

"I don' know what I seen!" she choked, horrified that he was aware she had seen something that she didn't understand.

"Tell me what you saw, girl!" he screamed.

Astrid pushed him aside, running for the door. He didn't try to stop her and she fled down the mountainside, tripping and tumbling through the unfamiliar landscape. She could feel the soles of her feet and her toes getting scraped and cut from the rocky ground, but she simply couldn't distance herself fast enough from Mr Walter's cabin. By the time she stumbled down onto the main path that led from The Pastures through Deeper Holler to the Church and the Flats, she was sobbing hysterically, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes so she could see her way back to her cabin.

The sky lit up with a gash of lightening and the air rumbled loudly with the sound of thunder, the heavens opening to produce a downpour of cool rain and as she continued running down the now muddy path, Astrid felt a strange sense of abandonment—she knew everyone had taken shelter at the storm, so she didn't have an opportunity to seek help, her only refuge being her cabin.

At her cabin, she dashed through the bright ribbons that hung across the doorway, feeling them flutter around her as she dove under the small table next to the fire place. She drew her knees up to her chin, crying into her arms as she rocked back and forth. She could feel her whole body shaking, her mind aching as she tried to process what had happened at Mr Walter's cabin.

She'd been speaking in tongues with a possessed man! And Peter Bischoff had been there, trying to have her translate the words, which for some reason she understood.

This didn't make any sense! It wasn't right!

Lightening cracked through the sky once more, and she continued holding herself—she'd never felt so alone, so scared and the more she pondered it, she realised she'd actually never felt fear before, which made it all the more terrifying.

The rain fell heavily outside, pounding on the tin roof; what was once a beautiful, musical sound was now loud and unbearable. She covered her ears, squeezing her eyes tightly shut even though the strange things she saw seemed burned into her eyelids.

Horrible, horrible, horrible.

She wanted nothing more than to be in the safety of the Church, surrounded by her people and in the house of the Lord, who would protect her from the evil Mr Walter had forced her to see.

She realised she had left her gathering basket at his cabin and she gave a dejected sigh, knowing there was no way she could go back for it. And the fact that the sacred flower she spent every day gathering had been unusually scarce today wasn't making the traumatizing situation any easier. She peeked her eyes open and glanced out the front entrance of her cabin, knowing it was too dark to go out now and hunt for the White Claudia.

Helpless and hopeless, she began to cry again.


	3. Chapter 3

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

Peter Bischoff walked along the trail through the Flats , humming to himself, fishing pole over his shoulder. He was headed home for the evening sans fish, but it had been a relaxing day never the less. Behind him, he could hear heavy footsteps and when he turned around, he saw Miss Livia Dunham struggling with two very large burlap sacks.

He stared at her for a moment before tipping his hat to her. "Hello, Miss Livia. It'd be mighty airish this evenin'."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, her eyes meeting his briefly before looking away. "I reckon so, Mr Peter. How you be doin' this evenin'?"

"Mighty fine. I could see you was carrin' all them bags and I's wonderin' if you's needin' some help?" He offered out a hand.

She broke into a smile that made him wonder why he'd never seen it before. "I might like that, Mr Peter."

"They mighty heavy," he said as he took one of the bags from her.

She opened one of the bags to show off the fruits of her day's labour. "Them wild onions. You want one?"

"Thank you." He took a smaller bulb and slipped it into his fishing basket. "Is you goin' to cook them into a stew?

She shook her head. "My sister Rachel will."

They walked in silence together until they reached the Dunham sister cabin.

Setting the bag down next to the front steps, he tipped his hat to her. "Good evenin', Miss Livia."

"Good evenin', Mr Peter," she said softly and took the sacks into the cabin.

* * *

It was later that evening, the sunset finally starting to fade when there was a knock on the doorway to Livia's cabin; she excused herself from the conversation she had been having with her younger sister and couldn't help but feel surprised when she saw Mr Peter.

"Evenin', Miss Livia."

Livia smiled shyly upon seeing him at her cabin's doorway. "Evenin', Mr Peter."

He held up a bundle wrapped in waxed parchment. "I brought over some fatback for Miss Rachel. Is she home?"

She was a little stunned, but quickly said, "Oh. Yes she is." She glanced behind her and said, "Rachel? You has a visitor!"

Livia quickly moved away from the doorway, allowing her sister to take her place and pretending to busy herself with the stew in the fireplace, trying not to feel any form of disappointment, because truly, she had no reason to want him to talk to her over her sister.

"Oh hello, Mr Peter. How you be doin' this fine evenin'?" she could hear Rachel say.

"Mighty fine and you be doin' as right as you look?"

"Yes," Rachel giggled.

There was a scuffling noise by the door and Livia turned to see her niece squeeze past him in the doorway, scampering across the cabin. "Hello, Mr Peter!"

"Hello, Miss Ella," he said kindly as the three adults watched her pull pebbles out of her pockets, setting them in an old tin next to the fireplace.

The sound of children's laughter drifted from the path, Ella's little friends waiting for her to join them again and she scampered back to the doorway before declaring,

"I'm off to find me some snails! I'm goin' watch them race across the grass!"

"That sounds mighty fine for the evenin'," Mr Peter said and the little girl gave them a parting wave.

Livia turned her attention back to the stew as she listened to him say, "You sure has a nice daughter, Miss Rachel."

"Thank you, Mr Peter."

She could hear him handing the package over to her sister, the crinkle of paper between their hands. "Miss Livia told me you was fixin' to make a stew with them wild onions and I thought you might be wantin' some of this fatback I had curin' in the smoke house."

"Oh! That be mighty nice of you, Mr Peter!"

"Well, I best let you nice ladies return to your evenin'," he said politely and Livia turned around just in time to see him give them both a nod.

"Good evenin', Mr Peter," both women said as he turned and left.

Livia and Rachel leaned out the doorway, watching him leave and once he was out of sight, Rachel seemed unable to keep her happiness to herself. "He's a right attractive feller, ain't he?"

Livia nodded. "I reckon."

"Mayhap he's a-lookin' for a wife?" Rachel asked, a hopeful look on her face.

"Mayhap," Livia mused sullenly but quickly added, "I reckon he couldn't find a prettier'un than you."

Rachel giggled and danced about the cabin, twirling the ribbons in her hands

* * *

The next morning as the sun started to rise, Livia, Rachel, and Ella began their peaceful walk from their cabin in the Flats to the Church only to find Mr Peter waiting on the path, banjo strapped across his back.

"Mr Peter!" Livia said, startled to see him.

He lived in Wide Holler, so while it would make sense that he would use this path—she'd simply never seen him on it until this morning.

"Miss Livia," he greeted and before she could ask him how he was this right fine morning, his eyes left hers and he added, "And Miss Rachel and Ella. I thought you lovely ladies might be wantin' company on your walk to Church this might fine morning."

"Ooh! That'd be right lovely, Mr Peter!" Rachel turned to look at Livia and with a beaming smile, asked, "Don't you agree, Liv?"

She gave a quick nod. "Of course."

Ella danced on the path ahead of them, her small feet kicking dust and small pebbles around. "Mr Peter, you wanna hear me sing? My mama say I got a real nice voice!"

Mr Peter gave her a kind smile. "I'd like that right fine, Ella."

Ella grinned broadly and began to sing loudly. "Hush little darlin' don't say a word, Papa's goin' buy you a mockin' bird, say darlin' say! And if that mockin' bird won't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring, say darlin' say! And if that diamond ring turns brass, Papa's gonna buy you a lookin' glass, say darlin' say! And if that lookin' glass gets broke, Papa's gonna buy you a billy goat, say darlin' say! And if that billy goat won't pull, Papa's gonna buy you a cart and bull, say darlin' say! And if that cart and bull falls over..."

The little girl trailed off as she saw the other children playing marbles in front of the Church and promptly dashed off ahead of them to join the small group; to Livia's surprise, Mr Peter continued singing the song, albeit softly.

"Say little darlin', won't you marry me? Live in a holler 'neath the old oak tree, say darlin' say. In the old oak tree we'll make our home, never more this world to roam, say darlin' say."

Livia caught him looking at her and as her cheeks began to colour, Rachel spoke up, oblivious of her sister's reactions.

"Oh Mr Peter, you's got the most loveliest voice I ever done heard. Don't you 'gree, Livia?"

Livia quickly averted her eyes back to the dirt path, embarrassed to have taken such a liking to him when her sister already had feelings for him. "I reckon so."

"Mr Peter!" someone yelled out cheerfully by the front steps of the Church and the three adults spotted Mr James waving his arm at Mr Peter.

"Mr James!" he shouted back, waving, then turned back to the Dunham sisters. "Ladies."

"See you later, Mr Peter!" Rachel cooed and Livia gave him a polite nod as he left.

"I reckon I'll find my way up to the Pastures after Church today. Don't feel much like swimmin'," Livia said abruptly as they watched the men entering the Church.

Rachel looked caught off-guard. "You sure?"

Livia felt a strange tightening in her gut as she imagined her sister spending their time at the Swimmin' Hole talking about Mr Peter. "Yes."

* * *

The Pastures was a large stretch of tall grasses, wild flowers, and different vegetables situated in large valley above Deep Holler, alongside Lake Reiden and beneath Big Rock Candy Mountain. It was quiet and peaceful, an open space where one could stare at the clouds floating in the sky.

Peter couldn't stop thinking about the elder of the Dunham sisters and while he would normally stay down in Valley behind the Church fishing, today he decided to find Livia whom he knew went to the Pastures in the afternoon to gather crops for her sister. As he walked along small single-person path worn in the ground, he picked the long stalked flowers that grew among the grass and plants, accumulating a little more than a handful by the time he reached the sole figure sitting in the colossal meadow.

She turned around upon hearing the sound of his footsteps, pausing in her work of digging through the rich soil of the fields.

"Hello, Miss Livia. I brought you somethin'." He handed over the bouquet of flowers and her eyes widened.

"For me?"

"I thought you might like them." He looked nervous and pointed to the ground. "Can I sit here with you?"

She nodded. "I'd like that."

He watched her quietly continue her work, her focus on the ground and he felt his heart sink somewhat; obviously the flowers hadn't had the effect he'd hoped for.

"What is you lookin' for today?" he asked, watching her turning up the soil.

"Root crop," she said simply.

"Can I help you?" he inquired, hopeful.

"I got a extra diggin' stick," she said, pointing to the burlap sacks buy their feet.

He reached down and uncovered the sturdy branch, tracing it through the dirt, distracted by the wonderful way the sunlight lit up her golden hair. "Why don't you spend more time with them other women?"

"I like bein' alone," she said simply as she pulled thick tubers out of the ground, brushing them off. "The silence feels nice. I like to think."

He held open one of the burlap sacks. "'Bout what?"

"Don't know," she said, her hand coming to rest on his as he reached over to yank another tuber out of the ground. "Careful, you don't want to break it."

He smiled at her touch though she didn't seem to notice. "I like bein' alone, too. Fishin' is a right quiet way to spend the day. I ain't ever catchin' nothin', though."

She brushed a stray strand of hair out her eyes, smudging a small fingerprint of soil on her forehead. "What do you think about when you out fishin'?"

"You ever wondered 'bout what's in the Not-Home?" he asked slowly, lying on his back to look up at the sky.

It was a moment before she answered. "Once. I was lookin' at them stars and I's thinkin' about what them stars look like in the Not-Home." She stopped digging and looked down at him. "Do you reckon they look any different?"

"Mayhap." He sat back up quickly. "I ain't thinkin' about the Otherside! We ain't supposed to be wantin' it! I just thinkin' 'bout the, you know, _Not-Home_."

"The Not-Home," she agreed, the corners of her lips turning up.

He was relieved that she understood what he meant, that he never wanted to give up his life in Home, and together they spent the rest of the afternoon in the Pastures.

* * *

The next morning in Church, Peter found himself absolutely distracted by Miss Livia; he knew that he ought be paying attention to the message of the hymns, but he couldn't keep his eyes off Miss Livia as he played the banjo. Beside him sat Mr Bill Ferguson who played a banjo as well and Mr James who played a guitar, calloused fingers strumming metal strings.

"If I's alive this time next day, will I have arrived in time to share? And mine is about as good this far. And I's still applied to what You are, Lord. And I's joinin' all my thoughts to you, Lord. And I been preparin' every part for you, Lord.

"And I heard from the trees a great parade. And I heard from the hills a band was made. And will I be invited to the sound? And will I be a part of what You've made, Lord?

"And I's throwin' all my thoughts away. And I been destroyin' every bet I done made. And I been joining all my thoughts to You, Lord. And I been preparin' every part for You, Lord."

Peter wondered how he could have never noticed her before as she stomped her bare feet in time to the music, her hands clapping to the rhythm and her lips forming each word perfectly. For the briefest moment their eyes met and he felt as though he'd shared a secret glance with her once before, but he couldn't place when it had been or where and as he shook his head loose of such thoughts, he returned his attention back to the hymn.

* * *

It was late evening and Livia was marching through Wide Holler where Mr Peter's cabin was. She was murmuring silently to herself, trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing by going to see the man. She'd felt him staring at her all through Church that morning and it had taken every bit of self control to keep from looking back at him, though Lord knew she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to look into his eyes, tell him that she had never felt more beautiful than when he gave her his attention, that she had no idea why she'd never noticed him before.

From Mr Phillip and Miss Nina's cabin she could hear laughter and as she passed Mr Nick's cabin, she could see that it was empty. Livia continued walking briskly along, her hands in tight fists as she tried to put into words the way she felt, trying to decide how she felt in the first place. The sky above was dark and while she wasn't afraid, she'd never been out alone once the sun set, especially so far from the cabin she shared with her sister and niece, so when she finally reached the edge of the land that Mr Peter inhabited, she felt a bit relieved. Nestled at the edge of the Wood's was his smokehouse, a small circular building created from a hollowed out tree trunk, elevated on stilts with a small vent at the top for smoke to roll out of. She could smell the rich fragrant timbers curing the meats and for the slightest of moments, she wondered what he smelled like.

Livia said a silent prayer as she nervously stood on the path, avoiding the patch of light that came from the cabin, then stepped forward so that she was able to look inside the small home. She could see he was standing by the fireplace, stirring something in a large pot; she caught the scent of an onion and wondered if it was the same one she had given him the day before. She rapped her knuckles on his doorway and he spun around, staring at her.

"Miss Livia! Is everythin' all right?" he asked, hurrying over to the doorway, wiping his hands off on his trousers.

She took a deep breath. "Mr Peter, I got somethin' I's wantin' to say to you."

A smile crept across his lips and she felt her heart pound. "Yes, Miss Livia?"

Her mind was reeling and she felt faint, but she knew she had to say the words, otherwise she wasn't going to be able to bear seeing him anymore without him knowing.

"You's belongin' with me," she said firmly and her thoughts calmed.

He said nothing, but leaned in, closing the distance between them and their lips met. Their kiss was soft and perfect and familiar...


	4. Chapter 4

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

_Her pink iPod rests in his labcoat's pocket protector, her earbuds shared between them—one for her right ear, one for his left. After letting him play with the controls for a few minutes, she shows the playlist she's made especially for him. Excitedly he picks a song and sweeps her up in his arms, taking the lead of their dance with ease._

_While Walter strikes most people as a doddering old man, lost in a world of chemicals and culinary obsessions, Astrid spends so much time with him that she's become aware of the strange moments of clarity he has, the subtle acts of genius that seem to escape Peter and Olivia. Of course, spending so much time with such an intriguing person hasn't been without its own consequences. Casual conversation became friendship became good friendship became flirting became...more. As they dance, he leans his head in close, dipping it down along her neck, nuzzling between her skin and the collar of her cardigan which makes her shiver pleasurably. He smells of the coffee he spilt this morning and the pot he smoked before work, his hands wonderfully warm and large as he guides them across the laboratory floor._

"_I'm in the mood for love," he sings softly into her bare ear, his hand protectively at the small of her back, "simply because you're near me."_

_She smiles, finishing the lyrics. "Darling, but when you're near me, I'm in the mood for love."_

Astrid sat straight up in bed, her eyes wide in the darkness of the cabin. The rain had stopped falling, leaving her in silence. Cool air was drifting through the open doorway of her cabin, gently moving the long strands of bright coloured ribbon in the faint light from the outside.

Had that...had that been a dream? It seemed too real, too strange, and it seemed too much like what she had seen the afternoon before in Mr Walter's cabin.

She needed answers.

After thinking for a moment, she climbed out of her bed and found one cinnamon scented candles from the small chest of drawers across the cabin. She lit it with the still warm coals from the fireplace and clutching the candle in her hand, she began her trek back to Deep Holler where Mr Walter's cabin was. The night was silent, peaceful and as she walked along the path that led from her cabin in the Flats up past the Church and up to the thick Woods that the strange man had isolated himself in.

The blue hyacinth that surrounded his cabin was cool and soft against her feet and ankles; as her toes brushed the small flowers, their subtle perfume wafting into the air.

The heavy burlap sack that hung across his door way blocked the entrance to his cabin, leaving her standing outside, unsure what to do. Astrid found it unusual that he had something covering the entrance to his cabin that wasn't more inviting—actually, the more she considered it, she didn't know anyone whose cabin wasn't open to everyone. Nothing blocked the doorway of her home, but he seemed to want people...i_out/i_.

She clutched the candle a little tighter and softly called out, "Mr Walter? Mr Walter?"

From within the cabin, she could hear something moving and then footsteps across the wooden floor; she took a step back as the burlap was pushed aside and Mr Walter's face was illuminated by the slow burning flame.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice rough and low.

"I had a dream," she said softly.

He didn't move and gave a curt, "Yes?"

"It wadn't of..._here_," she whispered softly.

"The Otherside?" he asked. She nodded and he stood aside to let her in. "Let me brew us a kettle of tea."

He stoked the hot coals then placed the cast iron kettle filled with water in the smouldering firewood; she sat down at the table in the same seat she had yesterday, placing the candle she'd brought with her on a tin sconce nailed to the cabin's log wall.

As he sat down across from her, he said, "First, I want you to tell me what you remembered yesterday."

She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze; the things she had seen, horrible, terrible, confusing things—there was no way she could burden someone else with that knowledge. When his hands covered hers, she looked back at him, seeing his gentle, reassuring smile.

"It's okay. Now what were you doing on the Otherside?"

"I was a-speakin' in tongues." She paused for a moment, taking comfort in the warmth of his palms before she quietly admitted, "I's a-speakin' in tongues before. In Church. And I's speakin in tongues before in my dreams. I done hear myself speakin' in ways I ain't never heard before. Songs, too."

"Do you remember any of the words you've spoken?" Mr Walter asked curiously.

She thought for a moment. She thought she ought to know them, but they didn't make sense. "No, but them songs sound familiar."

She hummed what she could remember of the strange, haunting tune and to her surprise, he chuckled.

"Ah, that is 'Hymn of the Cherubim'. I theorise you're singing hymns in Latin and German. I seem to remember you could do that. You were Catholic, or at least you studied Catholicism, and they have a tendency to incorporate other languages into their services." He thought a moment more then said, "In fact, I bet those times you were in Church you were actually trying to recite Mass!" He laughed again. "That is something that would be deeply ingrained in you—I can't imagine that being easy to remove from your memories!"

She frowned. "Remove?"

"We'll discuss that another day." He began to reminisce. "You used to speak five different languages fluently and about four others with semi fluency."

She was somewhat disappointed. "Them tongues ain't the Holy Spirit?"

He took the kettle from the fireplace. "No. Tea?"

She stared at the reddish water suspiciously as it was poured into her jar. "What did you put in this?"

"It's ground bark from the Tree of Morpheus. Just something to help open your mind." He nodded for her to drink and she did, the warmth creeping through her body.

"Mr Walter?" she asked.

"Yes?"

Her mouth tasted of spices and sweets. "What's an 'hour'?"

"It's a measurement of time." He cocked his head. "Did you hear it while you saw your memory?"

"I said 'one hour'." She thought a moment longer, trying to process what exactly she'd seen. "What's an hour?"

"Counting to sixty, sixty times."

She couldn't even start to fathom a number that large. "That a lot."

"It is."

"What does the countin' do?" she asked curiously.

He looked amused. "On the Otherside, we count the time in a day so we know how long it is."

That seemed ridiculous and unnecessary to her. "A day is when the sun comes over them mountains and then when it done set." She then added, "And then we has night. Do they not have them things over there?"

"We do. But we like to know the exact moment of our time." He began to play with the flame of the candle she had brought, his fingers flickering across the yellow fire. "On the Otherside, we have twenty-four hours in a day. I calculated how long our days are here once. Seventy-four hours. Slightly over three times a normal day." His eyes leave the flame to meet hers again. "Did you know you spend roughly twelve hours in Church every morning?"

"Is that a lot?"

He snorted. "It's half a day in our world."

"You's speakin' like you know the Otherside," she accused.

"I do." He leaned in. "We're from _there_."

She shook her head violently. "We's from _Home_. The Otherside is the Lord God's world and we's not supposed to be wantin' it." She quickly added, "And I's a right good person and I ain't never been there. Its entrance is the Dreamlands up on Big Rock Candy Mountain. If I ain't never been to the Dreamlands then I shouldn' remember nothin'."

He gave an irritated sigh before saying, "The bibles here contain no words."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why _would_ they?"

"You've never thought it strange that Bell gives the EXACT same service every single day, day after day?

She shook her head, not understanding what exactly he was trying to say. "Why would that be strange?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't think it's strange that service lasts from dawn until the sun reaches its zenith?"

Again she repeated, "Why would that be strange?"

"A thousand pages. A thousand stories, a thousand lies repeated over and over every single damn day!" he said angrily, startling her, but he quickly collected himself. "What is your earliest memory?"

Her mind suddenly felt foggy. "I don't understand."

"What is the first thing you remember? What was your life like as a child? What did your parents look like?"

She blinked a few times; the answers were right there, just out of reach. "I don't know."

A bitter smile crossed his lips. "You can't remember anything, can you?"

She shook her head slowly. "No."

"Don't you think that's strange? That you've lived here your whole life, but you remember none of it?

"I ain't never thought of it before," she said, baffled at the realisation.

"That's because you haven't lived here your whole life."

She jerked her hands out from under his. "What?"

He leaned in and in a low and solemn voice, said, "We aren't from here."

"I am from here. I growed up here my whole life," she said angrily.

"No, you _didn't_." His eyes glimmered. "Let me tell you of the Dreamlands."

She began to speak quickly, defensively. "The Dreamlands is the portal from this world to the next. The Lord says we ain't supposed to go there because we will be led into temptation."

"The reason we aren't supposed to go into the Dreamlands is because it is the gateway that will take us from this world to the universe we came from."

"No, I'm from here. My home is Home," she said firmly, tapping her finger against the tabletop to emphasise her words.

"Not originally. We're from the Otherside."

"No!" she shouted. "We can't be! We is good people!"

"We were even better people there." Mr Walter leaned against the cabin wall, his arms crossed. "Now you're a clever young lady. I have a question for you that I want an answer to. Your White Claudia—didn't it ever make you curious how the flowers can grow up overnight, as if they weren't plucked in the first place?"

"All things grow back if they's picked," she assured him—what other way could there be?

He gave her a thin lipped smile. "Then why would plants make seeds?"

She paused, completely stumped. "I...I don't know."

"Where does Peter get his meat from? Have you ever seen him slaughter a deer or pig? There aren't animals here and yet his smokehouse is never empty. The food keeps regenerating, just like the flowers."

Holes were beginning to appear in her world's logic and she had no idea how to defend them. "But…"

His voice began to rise. "Haven't you ever thought it was odd that some of the children don't have parents? That they live here on their own?"

Astrid's head began to throb and she held it between her hands.

"I ain't never thought 'bout it before," she whispered.

He returned to the table, lifting the kettle and pouring more of the red liquid into her jar. "Have some more tea."

As she drank more, thoughts swirled through her mind; why _hadn't_ she thought of it before? It didn't make sense!

"In this world we have a hive mind," he began to explain.

"We ain't bees," she said slowly, not sure what he meant, but her mind quickly jumped to the large honeycomb window in the Church.

He shook his head. "No, what I mean is, everyone here has interconnected memories, false ones. Recollections of who you once were break you from the ghost network. You're no longer one of them."

Astrid felt a knot in her throat, choking slightly as the tears formed once more in her eyes.

"I _am_ one of them," she insisted, suddenly feeling an emptiness inside of her.

"No. Not any longer." His hands covered hers once more. "Astrid, you shouldn't want to be a mindless drone. Here, you aren't truly living, you're merely _being_."

"But I'm one of them," she repeated meekly, fighting back tears.

His eyes narrowed and he pulled his hands away. "You're lucky I've more patience now than when I first had my eyes opened."

He stood up from the table and retrieved something from one of his many shelves before sitting down across from her once more. He held up the impossibly red apple she'd nearly dropped the day before.

"This is an apple from the Tree of Morpheus."

She looked at the beautiful apple, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. "Where is Morpheus?"

He shook his head. "Morpheus was the Greek god of dreams and later of sleep."

"_Greek_?" Astrid looked at him, her nose wrinkled in confusion. "I ain't understandin' anything you sayin', Mr Walter."

"It isn't really important, merely a clever name to associate the apple with the function has," he said with a somewhat exasperated sigh. "It aids in temporary access to what is hidden inside your mind."

He pulled a small pocket knife out of his trousers and began to slice it open. The apples looked normal in and of themselves until they were cut, their flesh an unusual light blue, glowing faintly and where there would have been seeds, there were small, tar black foetuses encapsulated in clear membranes. Astrid leaned in closer to study them and she drew back with a gasp as one of them wriggled. Mr Walter smirked as he used the tip of the knife's blade to pry the wriggling foetus out of the apple, carefully sliding it into a shallow wooden bowl.

She took a step back. "What…"

He slipped the bowl onto a shelf next to the table. "The seeds. I take them with me and plant them in the Dreamlands. I've grown quite a few trees this way—a small orchard."

She felt her skin prickle at the thought of the squirming, dark foetuses being buried in the ground. "Them little…_babies_ grow into trees?"

Mr Walter nodded, starting to slice the half of apple in his hand. "The Trees of Morpheus."

She peeked over at the bowl once more. "They alive?"

He shrugged, setting each individual slice down on the table in a row. "I suspect."

"Like the Wild Things?" Astrid's eyes narrowed.

His nose wrinkled slightly. "Wild Things? Oh, the myth of the Mandrake Men. No, these are different."

He handed her a slice and she took a small, tentative bite. The fruit meat caused her mouth to tingle slightly, dissolving on her tongue and her eyes began to cloud...

_"You want the kung pow chicken or the Szechwan beef?" she asks, her cellphone held between her shoulder and her ear as she looks at the Happy Peking Kitchen menu._

_Walter looks up at her from the crystallised flies he's been dissecting, the magnification glasses he's wearing making his eyes look huge and comical. "Which one would compliment the delicate palette of a Slusho and Red Vines?"_

_She bites back a smile. "Probably the beef. Fork or can you handle the chopsticks?"_

_He waves his scalpel about, his eyes blinking a few times. "I'll use my own—I have a phobia of splinters in my mouth."_

"What…"

"Tell me what you saw," he gently prompted.

"I was with you in some strange room…we was talkin' about food. Pow chicken, session beef…you was talkin' 'bout red vines and I asked you about chopping sticks, but you was afeared of splinters in your mouth." She shook her head and looked at him. "Does any of that mean anythin' to you?"

His eyes lit up. "Take out! We must have been in the lab!"

She was more confused. "Take out what?"

"It's Chinese food," he said and as she opened her mouth to ask what that meant, he quickly added, "Another thing you don't need to worry about."

She took another sip of tea from the jar. "What is 'the lab'?"

"My laboratory back on the Otherside."

She didn't understand that word either, but decided to ask about it some other time.

"The way we was dressed…"

His smile returned. "In most of my memories you're wearing a ruby-coloured cardigan. I don't know how accurate that is to the memory itself—I imagine it is because I was so fond of it."

She looked at the way the candle light caught the glass jars their tea was in. "I was wearin' a blue sweater. Light blue."

His smile became dreamy and distant. "Ah. I liked that one, too."

A faint streak of yellow moved under the doorway and they looked at it before Astrid declared, "The sun."

He nodded and they both stood. "You must leave?"

"Yes. I'm expected at the Church." She hesitated. "You ain't have to stay here. You's welcome to come, too."

He gave her a sad smile. "I don't belong there anymore, my dear. You run along now. I'll see you later."

"And little Asteroid!" he called after her as she stepped out of the cabin and into the blue hyacinths. "Don't forget your flowers."

Her gathering basket had appeared outside the doorway, in the exact place it had been put yesterday before she entered his cabin. She stood dumbfounded—she knew it hadn't been there earlier that morning when she'd made her way back. Mr Walter held it out to her and she took a tentative step forward; while it had been nearly empty the day before, it was now overflowing with the beautiful white flowers.

"How did you—"

He shook his head and handed it to her before pointing in the direction of the Church. "Pastor Bell would be quite upset if you didn't bring the White Claudia."

For a moment she wasn't sure what to do with the basket, but her mind focused and she slung it back over her shoulder, giving Mr Walter a resolute nod before heading back down the mountainside.


	5. Chapter 5

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

Light filtered through the impossibly tall trees, scattering it like coins of gold across the forest floor. Unseen birds sang high above in the branches and the sound of water babbling over stones carried over the waist-high ferns that lined the path worn into the rich dirt. Christine Hollis, with the group of other women, meandered towards the Swimmin' Hole on the creek that came down from the mountains. It was after Church and as they did every day, they made their way to the deep pool of water to swim.

The women's voices lifted and filled the section of forest they walked through, a unison of conversation that finally melded into the sound of the waterfall that fell from the mountainside. The Swimmin' Hole was a naturally formed pool within the river's path, created from the waterfall's constant pounding into the ground beneath it, deep and warmed by the sun. Large boulders lined the Swimmin' Hole, covered in moss and polished smooth from the run of the water.

On one of the giant rocks lining the Swimmin' Hole, Christine fell into the routine the other women followed. Carefully she unbraided her long plaits, letting the long tresses fall across her shoulders and down her back, untying the crimson silk ribbons. She unbuttoned the front of her dress until it was loose enough to slide over her hips and down to her feet before stepping out of it, wearing nothing but the knee length drawers she had on underneath.

The dress was discarded on the rocks and she dove into the deep pool, immersing herself in the silence of the river. The tepid water is crystal clear and she brushed her fingertips across the velvety, algae covered river rocks on the bottom of the riverbed before swimming back up to the surface, breathing in deep the warm afternoon air. Her ears once again were filled with the sounds of the other women talking amicably and the splashing of bodies and clothes being washed. She swam back to the rock where she'd left her clothes and pulled herself out of the water partially to find the chunk of the tallow soap that she'd kept in her dress' pleat pocket.

Miss Krista was discussing the birds she had heard chirping earlier that morning, swearing up and down that it had been a new song while Miss Annabelle Mathis disagreed, saying that the birds' songs never changed. The Twins, Miss Susan and Miss Nancy, were talking about the best process through which to harvest mistletoe with Miss Astrid, and the sisters Miss Livia and Miss Rachel were furiously scrubbing small dresses that belonged to Ella, Miss Rachel's young daughter. Miss Ginger was sitting atop one of the rocks surrounding the Swimmin' Hole, humming a hymn to herself as she worked a thick lather through her hair.

Christine sank beneath the surface of the water to wet her hair again before she began to wash it with the malleable soap and when she came back up, a flash of white between the trees caught her eyes; had it been a bird? No, too large. Someone moving? She tilted her head to the right, treading the water as she studied the tree line.

"Did any of y'all just see that?" she asked loudly and the entire group of women fell silent, turning towards her.

"See what?" Miss Rachel asked, her head turning to look in the direction she was staring.

Christine felt a sudden embarrassment for disrupting the usual balance of the women's time together, but she'd never seen anything different any of the times she'd gone to Swimmin' Hole.

She pulled herself up onto the rocks and pointed past them, into the Woods. "Something in them trees." She paused for a moment and then declared, "I'm goin' take a gander."

"Don't be wanderin' too far, Christine!" Miss Susan hollered after her.

"I'll be nary a minute," she called back as she began to move through the ferns to the edge of the Woods.

Leaves and flecks of dirt stuck to the soles of her still wet feet and she crawled up the steep side of the holler, her hands grasping at ferns and tree roots to aid her. It wasn't long before the other women were out of her sight, leaving her all alone in the Woods. There was nothing but the quiet and as she struggled upwards, she felt the dirt caking to her knees and under her fingernails. Finally reaching a flatter slope of the holler, she stood up, surveying the mountainside.

Perhaps she'd simply imagined it. Perhaps there hadn't been anything at all.

Then, silently a pale man, entirely hairless and without clothing stepped out from the shadows of the tall ferns and trees.

"Hello, Christine," he said softly.

Her eyes widened and she backed up against one of the tree trunks; she was scared, but she wasn't going to run. She was wet and nearly naked, but wasn't so embarrassed considering he was entirely unclothed as well.

"You one of them Wild Things!" she declared softly, her fingers gripping the bark behind her. "You ain't goin' a-hurt me, is you?"

His pale eyes stayed on hers as he spoke again. "I could never hurt you."

She turned her head against the tree to look down at the Swimmin' Hole below, then looked back at him. "Was you watchin' us, Wild Thing?"

"I was watching you," he said softly.

This startled her. "Me?"

"You are very special, Christine. You've always been special to me."

She felt her cheeks blush slightly and she said humbly, "I ain't special."

They were quiet for a moment simply looking at one another; Christine's mind was burning with questions. She leaned her head back against the tree trunk and turned it back in the direction of the pool, listening to sounds of splashing and a few of the women calling her name.

"They's callin' for me, Wild Thing," she said softly as she turned back to look at him.

He nodded and stepped back into the shadows, melting away from her sight as if he were magic.

She stood against the tree still, her eyes darting, trying to seek him out once more, but the sound of the women calling for her again forced her to abandon the search, lest it prompt them to come looking for her. Christine slid down the side of the holler, dirt caking to the back of her thighs and ankles, anxious to rejoin the other women still swimming and splashing in the Swimmin' Hole.

"You find anythin'?" Miss Krista asked when she returned, twisting her long hair in her hands, rinsing out the thick lather.

The other women looked at her expectantly.

His voice returned to her ear. _"I was watching you."_

"Nothin' for you," she said quickly before jumping into the water.

She sank to the bottom of the Swimmin' Hole, staying down by the algae covered stones, pondering what she'd seen. A Mandrake Man? And he said she was special? She couldn't fight back a large grin and she let out a burst of laughter, surfacing along with the large air bubbles.

* * *

That night Christine found her way back into the forest, carrying a flour sack filled with the spicy green, red, and yellow pods that grew in the garden outside her cabin as well as a stack of clothing she believed might be the same size as the Wild Thing she'd met that afternoon. The forest was pristinely quiet, simply the sound of her bare feet on the moss covered ground and the hem of her dress brushing against the ferns and flowers that grew thick in the Woods.

Finally there was a slight rustle in the greenery to her left and she stopped walking, knowing that he was there.

"Hello, Wild Thing." She offered out the carefully folded clothing. "I brought you somethin'."

Out of seemingly nothing he emerged, his expression impassive as he received the garments from her. "Thank you."

Offering him a bit of privacy, she turned around, but continued talking. "These was my father's. The Lord made us clothes so that might not have to be naked before others." A hand touched her shoulder after a few moments and she saw he'd put on the black suit. She picked up the flour sack and handed it over to him. "And this is from my garden."

He opened the sack and lifted out a single green object. "Chilli peppers. I brought you the seeds."

"You like them?" She asked curiously as she watched him eat one whole.

"I do."

"You have a name, Wild Thing?" she asked as she reached up and carefully adjusted his shirt collar.

He played with one of her long locks of hair, twisting the loose curl between his thumb and forefinger. "August."

"That's a pretty name. What'd it mean?"

"It is the eighth month."

She tilted her head slightly. "What is a month?"

"A measurement of time."

Her mind drifted to thoughts of the noon sun and the full moon, wondering where 'august' fit into the length of a day. She imagined it was the point between dusk and twilight, where the sky had left the light blues and golds and had transformed into the violet and indigo shades at the birth of night. He reminded her of that—that must be an august.

"I ain't never heard of a august before," she said politely, slipping her hand into his.

He looked down at their hands joined and then back up at her, completely expressionless still. "There are twelve of us."

She smiled at him as his hand tightened slightly around hers. "There is twelve of you Wild Things?"

"Yes," he replied as they began to walk slowly through the Woods.

She wondered how she could have overlooked twelve of the strange Mandrake Men. "How come we ain't ever seen any of y'all? If you is speakin' like us, why don't you ever come a-talkin'?"

His form seemed to disappear every time they stepped into the shadows. "You aren't supposed to see us."

"Why not?" she asked as he helped her over a large, fallen log, his hands keeping her balance while jumped from the top to the ground.

"We are supposed to watch over you," he replied simply.

"Why did you come speakin' to me, then? I wouldn't have never seen you if you hadn't stepped out of them trees."

He stared at her for a moment. "I wanted you to see me."

"Why?"

His fingers gently traced along her jaw and she could feel her skin prickle, a tightening in her gut. "I've missed you."

"We ain't never met before today," she said, blushing.

His look in his eyes became distant. "Once. A long time ago, very far away."

"You talkin' in riddles, Mr August," she told him, but smiled regardless.

He paused in their walk, having reached the edge of the Woods; Christine could have sworn she'd only been with him for a moment, but from the tinge of the sky, she could see that is was already morning.

"You haven't had any sleep," August said as though he knew what she was thinking.

"Oh, I feelin' right awake after bein' with you, Mr August," she said, touching her hand to his shoulder, giving him a fond smile. "I'll be seein' you later?"

"Yes." His hand grabbed her by the wrist once more and he held something out to her. "For you."

She took the beautiful object, recognising the shape, but not the colour. It was the most beautiful green, the most beautiful blue...

"What kind of bird maked these feathers, Mr August?" she asked, twirling it by its shaft so that the first hint of dawn reflected off it.

"A male peacock."

She frowned, studying the unusual feather further. "Pea cock? That some kind of rooster?"

"No."

Her eyes widened. "Is it one of them Dreamland birds?"

He said nothing, remaining silent for a moment before asking, "Do you like it?"

"It is right pretty." She gave a crooked smile as she touched the feather along his chin. "Must be a pretty bird."

He took a step backwards, his form flickering in the shadows before completely disappearing._ "We will see one another later."_

* * *

After Church, down at the Swimmin' Hole, Christine washed her dress alongside the other women that on the boulders around the pool.

Miss Risa broke the silence. "So who is you running off to see at night?"

Christine felt her blood run cold—the question was no doubt directed at her. "What?"

Miss Risa smiled at her. "I seen you last night sneakin' off to the Woods."

"The Gentleman," she finally admitted, not wanting to share his name with them, unsure if it would give away who he truly was.

"The Gentleman?" the women said in unison, their voices betraying their confusion.

Christine gave out a soft sigh. "He talks real pretty. And he looks so nice, wearing one of them fancy suits and a choke rag."

"Your Gentleman have a name?" Miss Annabelle asked.

She blushed and looked back down at her laundry. "Secret."

"Now you got me all curious-like!" Miss Rachel insisted, the other women agreeing.

"I can't tell!" Christine giggled.

"Secret," Miss Krista agreed. "You love him, Christine?"

She lowered her eyes bashfully to the laundry on the rock. "I think I do."

Miss Risa gave her a sly smile. "You fixin' to marry your Gentleman, Christine?"

She frowned at this. "I don't know if he's the type."

"What type a man not wantin' to marry you?" Miss Annabelle asked.

"It ain't so simple to tell you's about." Her eyes lifted to meet all of the ones looking at her. "But he a good man and he loves me."

She glanced among the women for a moment, then lifted the cotton vest she'd been wearing earlier off one of the shrubs she'd hung it on, searching through folds of fabric to find the secret pocket sewn into the lining. The women watched curiously as she pulled out the beautiful feather August had given her the night before.

"He brought me this," she said, holding it up and rolling the shaft between her thumb and finger so that the sunlight reflected off the plumage in golds and blues.

The women marvelled at the sight of the feather.

"He ain't an Outsider, is he?" Miss Annabelle asked hesitantly.

"No!" she insisted, her hands clutching the feather to her chest. "But I think he mighta _seen_ the Outside," she added after a moment.

"The Outside!" The Twins gasped and suddenly the conversation among the women turned what the Not-Home must contain.

She found herself staring into the Woods, searching for any glimpse of the one she couldn't stop thinking about.

After she left the Swimmin' Hole, wearing her now dry dress and carrying her feather in one hand and hair ribbons in the other, she imagined what life would be without August. She couldn't believe she'd been able to live without him in the first place. He said she was special.

Christine looped one of the scarlet ribbons around the base of the beautiful feather, knotting the red in the centre then tying the two loose strands to the nail on the left side of her cabin doorway. A light breeze picked up and lifted the incredible green and blue covert to turn in the sunlight, hypnotising to watch. She smiled, knowing that he wasn't there but feeling his presence nevertheless.

"August," she breathed, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to dream of the Mandrake Man who'd stolen her heart.

* * *

"Where is you, my Wild Thing?" she called out softly, holding a small jar in her hand.

He was already standing in front of her, less than an arm's length away but it wasn't until he allowed the shadows around him to shift that he appeared to her. "I am here, Christine."

She smiled and closed the distance between them. "I brought you some pepper jam. I been cookin' and all I could think of was you."

"Thank you," he said, accepting the gift she'd brought for him.

"I missed you, Wild Thing," she whispered softly.

"I missed you, too," he admitted, having longed to feel human body so close to his ever since the sun had risen that morning.

"Can I take you somewhere, Mr August?" she asked him, her hand tugging on his.

He allowed her to lead him along through the Woods. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere very special to me," she said and he noticed that her hand tightened around his fingers the slightest fraction.

They emerged at the edge of the Wood where the back of the Church met with the tree line; the small cemetery contained old, weathered headstones covered with lichen of splendid colours that patchworked across the old stones, partially obscuring names. Christine led him to two small headstones side by side.

She was quiet for a moment, her hand tightening around his, before she said, "These is my parents' graves."

"They drowned," he murmured softly, remembering the collapse of the bridge that had killed them.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. "You know!"

It was a memory he mourned often. "You were still young."

"Yes." She looked over at him and leaned her head close to his, lowering her voice. "Can I tell you a secret?"

August didn't know what the word 'secret' meant, but he nodded, knowing that whatever she wished to share with him was important.

"I don't remember them," she whispered and he could see a tear start to roll down her cheek.

The pain he could feel inside of her was dull, aching and he felt it as his own. His thumb carefully brushed the tear away. "I wouldn't expect you to."

She was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming and intoxicating feeling, something that flooded him as she whispered, "I love you, August."

"I have wanted to hear you say that," he told her touching her face with reverence.

"Do you love me, August?"

"Yes." He thought of all the time he'd spent watching her from the shadows, both in this universe and the previous. Throughout it all, she'd given him meaning, a drive to save the world in which she'd inhabited. "I always have."

"I've never been in love before," she confessed and he could feel the wonderful emotion he felt for her radiating in her as well.

"I've only ever wanted you to be happy, Christine."

* * *

The next night, Christine hurried out to the Woods, running through the trees to find the Mandrake Man named August. She broke into a broad grin as she continued her wild sprint when August appeared alongside her, leaping over fallen branches on the forest floor.

"Come with me!" His large hand took hers.

"Where you takin' me?" she shouted, allowing him to take her in a direction she'd never gone before.

He gave her no explanation and they ran with reckless abandon; up, up, up the mountainside they went and at the moment Christine thought her body could no longer keep up with the Wild Thing, he stopped and pulled her close so that her back was to his chest. His finger pointed out ahead of them, his voice a thick murmur.

"You can see everything from here."

She was so taken with the beauty of the world she lived in that Christine could't find words to speak. Everything was so vast—the Pastures, the Woods, the Flats, every holler. And the mountains that surrounded everything! They were so mighty and tall, enclosing them safely sheltering them from whatever was in the Not-Home. Behind the mountains were thick, puffs of clouds that covered what lie beyond the only home she'd ever known.

They were quiet together for a long time, their bodies swaying slightly until she whispered, "And what is out there past what I can't see?"

"Nothing." He looked at the dark and repeated, "There is nothing outside of what you can't see."

She turned around and slipped her arms over his shoulders and around the back of his neck, leaning into a kiss. For a moment he was still as though he was unsure how to react, but then his arms found their way to her waist and he returned the sentiment. He always stared so deeply into her eyes that she was completely sure he was looking right through her.

"You my guardian angel, August?" she asked, nuzzling her face against his neck.

His hands still rested gently on her hips. "I don't know."

"You watch over me, you keep me safe…you must be," she murmured, moving her body closer, unable to keep her lips off his. "They think you a devil, August," she said against his lips.

"I'm not," he promised and she smiled.

"I know. I know you idn't."

August still held her close as his right hand moving to his trouser pocket. He removed something small and silver and she found herself transfixed with the way it glimmered in the moon and starlight.

"This…this belongs to you," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

She shivered at the sensation, smiling blissfully. The small metal object looked very familiar, but she couldn't quite place what it might be called, the word on the tip of her tongue.

"It's…" He paused, their foreheads touching.

She lifted her eyes to his. "August?"

"It was yours." He allowed her to touch the metal that didn't warm until her fingers touched it. "It was your ring."

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "But I don't think this ring belongs to me."

"It did."

In the briefest of instances the flicker of a foreign, yet entirely familiar memory flashed before her eyes, of her wrists being bound together, of being hidden in a dark room, of him lifting her off the floor. Her skin prickled momentarily, unsure what to make of it.

"How did you get it?" she asked, looking at the silver with curiosity.

"It fell off your finger…I merely thought it should be returned to you."

He carefully took her hand and returned it to the finger it had once belonged on—she knew this even though she'd never worn a ring before.

Her cheeks flushed slightly. "You know what finger you is puttin' that on, don't you?"

His long fingers continued caressing and massaging her hands, studying her ring. "No."

"That be the weddin' finger, August," she said, her cheeks flushed.

He looked up at her, his head tilting slightly to the side. "I don't understand,"

"It means I is belongin' to you…and you is belongin' to me," she explained.

"You belong to me and I belong to you," he repeated, solemn and understanding.

"Our secret marriage vows," she said softly as she took a step back. He looked at her curiously and she began to unbutton the front of her dress slowly, each inch of the dress opening up further to reveal smooth, pure skin, clavicles, shoulders, and breasts. They were silent and as she undid the last button, exposing her down to the navel, she let her eyes meet his and she gave him a shy smile; this was the first time she'd ever felt this way for someone and as she stood before him in the moonlight, she asked,

"So you wantin' to play husband and wife?"

* * *

He breathed in the scent of air around them, of the sweat on her skin, of the fertile dark earth beneath the grass on which they lay. She was breathing hard, her body still shuddering next to his, head rest on his shoulder. Even his own skin was still giving off residual electric sparks, small blue arcs reacting from the perspiration she'd left on his own body.

"Looks like foxfire," she murmured, playing her fingertips through the minute flickers.

His eyes turned back to the black sky; the stars above them looked sharp and bright, their music faint, but as pure as it ever was.

After he'd died…he'd never thought he'd be with her again, never see her face, never hear her voice. And yet he'd been restored…returned and reunited with the only one who could make him more than just August, more than just a Watcher. She knew nothing of their former lives but he wondered if she could still feel the infinite and small threads that connected them through space and time, if she was aware that they belonged together.

He'd never wanted anything before, never needed anything before _her_. She was the reason he wanted to be alive.

"Does this world make you happy?" he whispered, suddenly not wanting to deny her a single thing.

She turned her face towards him. "What do you mean?"

He gestured to the heavens above them. "This world you call Home isn't real. You are asleep."

She propped herself up on her elbow and her face betrayed her confusion. "You sayin' this is all a dream?"

He nodded his head once. "This is all a dream."

"The Otherside?"

"It's real."

"Is that where you from, August?" she asked and he could feel the strength it took her to ask a question that so obviously made her nervous.

He wished she could understand that she was from there as well. "I can take you there."

Her eyes widened. "To the Otherside?"

"Yes. I could take you out of the Dreamlands."

Christine was quiet for a moment. "Would I be happy on the Otherside?"

"No, but you would be awake."

"Would I have you on the Otherside?"

He couldn't meet her eyes, trying not to imagine her in her home universe alone. "No."

She shook her head, loose curls swaying across her skin. "Then I's rather be a-sleepin with you, than awake without."

August folded his long fingers around her hand, bringing it up to his bare chest to the place a heart might belong. He closed his eyes and she moved her body closer to his. He could feel the peace within her and it made him feel peaceful as well.

"Then it is so."


	6. Chapter 6

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

"Why you done go into the Dreamlands to begin with?" Astrid asked as she trekked up through the Pastures with Mr Walter.

It was afternoon now, after Church service—skipping her usual time at the Swimmin' Hole and her job out wandering the different hollers, looking for White Claudia, she'd instead returned to Mr Walter's cabin for a third time since Church yesterday and he was leading her off to the Dreamlands on Big Rock Candy Mountain.

"My wife was there."

"What?" She nearly tripped over the small rocks on the path—she was very sure she'd seen a grave marker for Miss Elizabeth in the small cemetery behind the Church. "Miss Elizabeth is dead."

"It wasn't really her. More of a ghost really, wandering around the edge of the Dreamlands." His voice became dreamy and distant, a beautiful tone that she knew she'd heard before. "I was up in the Pastures one afternoon, looking for things to collect—that's one of my habits that remained with me—and I happened to see movement among the trees...it was her." He looked back at the Dreamlands. "I went looking for her and she led me here."

She was quiet, unsure what to say, but he continued talking. "Did you know that all the graves in the cemetery are empty?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"There are no bodies here. No one's ever died in Home."

"What does that mean?" she asked again, firmer this time.

His expression was hard to read. "We could live forever. This paradise is eternal."

Lake Reiden was seated at the bottom of Big Rock Candy Mountain, where The Dreamlands lie. They'd already reached the outer shoreline that bordered on the trees that led into the Dreamlands; Astrid had never been this far in the Pastures—she'd never wanted to be this close to the forbidden part of her world. Everything about the Dreamlands seemed off; the trees looked alive and ominous, as though it was waiting for her to enter...

"Are you ready?" Mr Walter asked as they stood at the edge of the treeline.

"I's ready," she said determined, but she could feel a small inkling of fear as they stepped into the Dreamlands.

The first thing she noticed about the Dreamlands was that the branches above them kept knitting themselves tighter and tighter, blocking out the sun completely and when they finally parted, the trees becoming sparse, the sky had become pitch black as though it were the dead of night, though there were no stars or moon in the sky. It was eerie and she felt her skin prickle.

"I've always been a little surprised that it was me who ventured into the Dreamlands first. I always thought it would be Peter. He's a rule breaker like his old man," Mr Walter said in a fond tone, a mischievous smile on his face. Astrid couldn't honestly image Mr Peter being anything like his father. "Definitely not Olivia, though. She's too much of a rule follower and knowing that this place is off-limits, she would avoid it like the plague. Though it must have piqued her interest considering that she does her gather up here everyday." He nodded at her. "I always knew that after I discovered this place's secrets, you'd be soon to follow. Olivia...I wonder if a vision waits for her on the edge of the Dreamlands. I bet it would come in the image of her mother. Olivia's mother died when she was very young and it affected her quite negatively..."

He seemed lost in thought as they moved deeper into the tree line and she moved closer to him, not wanting to be in this strange place on her own.

"Why do you keep sayin' 'Oh Livia'? Like you sayin' 'Oh Lord'," she asked curiously.

Mr Walter tossed back his head as he began laughing. "Because that's her name, 'Olivia'. For some reason, her name here is her sister's childhood abbreviated pronunciation of it."

Her tongue tripped over the long, strange word. "Ah-bree-vee…"

"Abbreviated. It mean's 'short'," he quickly said.

"That's a mighty long word for 'short'," she pointed out and then paused. "Her name is Olivia? Is mine 'Oh Astrid' and you's called 'Oh Walter'?"

He chuckled again. "I'm called 'Doctor Walter Bishop' there."

"Bish'_op_?" She liked how the ending made a popping noise.

"Bishop is my family's American surname. It used to be 'Bischoff'. We came from the Deutschland, a long, long time ago."

"Long, long time ago," Astrid echoed out of habit from Church; she wasn't sure what an American or a Deutschland was, but she knew they must be important. "What's that first word you say? Doctor?"

"I heal people with science over in that universe."

"You's a healer?" she inquired.

"Yes."

"And that 'science'…"

He smiled. "Don't worry about it. I will explain it later."

Something glimmered on one of the tree trunks and she drifted towards it, her attention captured completely; the object was a metal disk covered with a glass dome. Within the dome was a red arrow that spun slowly, round and round and round...

"What is that?" Astrid asked and Mr Walter leaned against the tree it had been nailed to.

"It's called a 'compass'. In our world it is used to point North."

She glanced over at him. "North?"

"It's a polar direction that we use on our planet." He quickly added, "Not that it's necessary for you to know any of that. What this compass does is it points a person in the direction of their memories." His hand gestured out into the dark trees. "Our memories are stored here in the Dreamlands."

Her fingertips gently caressed the smooth glass dome, looking at the strange spinning arrow inside of it. "It's beautiful."

"It certainly is." His hand took hers again. "But we shouldn't daly."

"Which way way we is a-goin'?"

"Towards our right. Come along."

Astrid allowed herself to be led through the dark and strange forest of the Dreamlands; the black leaves and the ashen bark had a faint blue aura to them that cast enough light for them to walk safely among the trees without tripping. The barren ground was covered with dry, hard black soil, prone the cracking and breaking off in large chunks as they walked along. Every so often large butterflies fluttered down from the leaves, floating off ahead of them. Their large wings looked constructed of white bones, the skeletal remains of human hands (Astrid wasn't sure how she knew what human bones looked like, but that was the answer her mind supplied her with).

At the base of the tall trees were clusters of flowers; they were blue daisies that glowed, their petals ticking and twisting from left to right, whirring around their unusual centres. She paused for a moment to study the flowers, noticing that some of the petals were actually dragonfly wings that fluttered helplessly. The flowers continued clicking, making soft rhythmic noises that sounded incredibly familiar, but she couldn't quite put a finger on where she'd heard it. Mr Walter doubled back and stood next to her.

"The flowers?" he asked.

She nodded.

"They sound like clocks," he told her.

"Clocks?" she echoed.

"It's a device that tells us what time of day it is." He gave a soft chuckle as his fingers flicked the petals. "They remind me of the grandfather clock in the house Peter and I rented. It was close to where I slept—I loved falling asleep to the sound of the gears winding slowly."

Astrid had never heard of 'clocks' or 'gears' or 'rented', but she liked the way they sounded as Mr Walter said them. All the new words he said were rather beautiful and she hoped to learn all of them.

He bothered the flowers once more, knocking floating orbs of glowing pollen into the air, letting it hover. "Anyway, we should continue onwards. The place we want to be is still further up."

As they began walking again, she asked, "How much further?"

"Not much."

They walked further and further on, causing her to wonder if they were ever going to stop and finally she had to rest against one of the trees, feeling somewhat winded.

She looked at the thick waxy leaves above them and said, "I thought you said them apples was on them trees."

He pointed above them. "They are."

The leaves rustled slightly and suddenly something pale blue peeked out, causing her to jump back. A slender, smooth hand clutching at one of the smooth impossibly red apples slid out of the black leaves and dropped the apple down which Mr Walter caught. Slowly the hand withdrew into the leaves.

"What was that?"

"The tree," he said, tossing it in the air and catching it before slipping it into his cardigan pocket.

She realised she was shaking. "It had _six fingers_."

"A six-fingered hand to _hand_ you the apples." He chuckled at his joke and then looked at her curiously. "Would you like one?"

She started to take a step back. "I don't know if I should be involvin' myself—"

Another hand emerged from the tree above, handing an apple as well.

"Catch!" Mr Walter shouted happily as it was dropped into her hands.

"It's warm!" Astrid exclaimed in shock.

He nodded. "From where they held it."

"Goodness, it's pretty," she mused happily as she walked along,turning it over and over in her hands. "Do you reckon you ever seen anythin' so pretty?"

He smirked. "Mr dear, I've seen the Otherside. I have seen things of unimaginable beauty." She bumped into him as he stopped suddenly. "We're here."

She gasped as she saw what they'd been looking for. In front of them was a glowing blue person, stationary and seemingly made of smoke, standing next to on of the tall, black trees. This section of the Dreamlands seemed to have the smoke beings scatter throughout the forest, silent and seemingly waiting.

"Is that me?" she asked, looking at the blue visage of herself standing next to a tree, the image's eyes staring past her, seeing nothing.

"They are memories we've left here, specific ones that we knew were important. They've been hidden here in the Dreamlands so that if we needed to recall them we'd be able to find them." He moved her over to another ethereal blue form, this one looking like him. "I'd picked this one so you'd know I was telling the truth."

She frowned, wondering what exactly he'd use to convince her she could believe it all.

"Breathe the memory in," he instructed.

She leaned forward, her face against the cloud memory's and as though she were leaning over the stew pot, she inhaled the blue steam deeply. Immediately her mind began to cloud, thick smoke seeping into her brain. She stumbled backwards slightly and felt Walter help her balance by catching her elbow as thin blue webbing formed over her eyes…

_The monopoly board game has been left and forgotten on the coffee table, pastel paper money scattered across the brown carpet of the Bishop home. Smooth, sensual jazz is playing softly on the record player by the window and the only light in the room comes from the fireplace. Walter is on his back, comfortably relaxed against the couch's cushions, a throw pillow tucked under his head and Astrid is straddled over his hips, naked save for the oatmeal-coloured cardigan of his she's wearing to fend off the chill in the room. _

"_How much longer do you think Peter and Olivia will be out?" she asks softly, closing her eyes and tilting her head backwards as she moves slowly up and down._

"_I'd guess at least another forty minutes. The last time they went out drinking together they stayed out pretty late," he reminds her, his own eyes shut._

"_Peter always feels so guilty leaving me here with you," she says with a gentle laugh._

"_Ah, I'm not so sure if he'd feel the same way if he knew how we spent their time away."_

_Astrid gives another throaty chuckle as they enjoy the only low stress part of their week, the Friday evening that Peter and Olivia commiserate over beers in town._

"_I feel as though the earth is shaking," he murmurs after she leans down for a deep kiss._

_She gives him a pleased smile, but pauses in her movements, opening her eyes. _

"_Walter, I think we're actually experiencing an earthquake!"_

_His eyes open as well and he gives her a wolfish grin as his hands move up her thighs to her hips. "Well the experts say you're supposed to get under something solid—"_

_The streetlights outside flicker slightly and the smile leaves her face. "Walter, what if this is a universe shift?"_

Astrid breathed out and as she left the memory, she could see she was exhaling the blue corporal form. She blinked a few times, trying to orient herself and once she was recovered enough, she turned to look at the man next to her.

"Were we in love?" she croaked, her voice suddenly scratchy as though she'd been around too much smoke.

He smiled and shrugged, letting go of her elbow. "I'm not quite sure. Perhaps we were simply two people put in an unusual position and we turned to one another."

He swept his fingers through the memory form of himself, dispersing the blue smoke momentarily before it reformed in his image. "I'm rather fond of this one though. If you let it stay in you longer, you'll see how detailed it gets."

She turned her head to look away, blushing and he quickly added, "Of course, that's not what we're here for."

"No," she agreed with a slight smile.

He beckoned her to follow him through the trees. "Come, I'll show you the memory you'll want to see."

The silent, blue smoke form of herself appeared sad looking and as she had never experienced sadness before she'd met Mr Walter, she was nervous to see what this shade had hidden. "What is it?"

"Just breath in deep," he instructed.

She hesitated, but breathed in anyway...

_The bathroom in the upstairs of the warehouse is dark, moonlight the only source of light in the small, still unused room. It's been wallpapered in aluminium foil—floor, ceiling, and walls—and it crinkles under her feet as she steps tentatively across it, making sure she doesn't tear it. She places a large, final sheet of foil over the window, which momentarily seals her in the dark until she pulls out her lighter and lights the candle above the sink. She looks into the mirror, her face appearing gaunt from the shadows of the dark room. _

_Her cheeks are stained with tears and her eyes are red and sore. She's so, **so** tired, but if she doesn't speak now, she might never get the chance again._

"_Astrid, this is me. I'm saving this memory for you to see later," she says, her voice sounding distant and defeated. "This universe is…decaying. And rapidly. The world you are in right now…it will shield you and the others from everything that is happening here."_

"_But others aren't so lucky. So many people are dying, being cancelled out, and the ones that aren't…they're merging into the other universe. Horrifically." She's quiet and then breathes softly. "I know you'll want to help—you are me and I am you, after all—but please don't leave wherever it is we've been hidden until you are absolutely sure you can fight. I can't go into details because there is always the risk that someone might see my memories before we leave. But if someone there is asking you to return, make sure you're ready. This is not a nice place..."_

"I left this memory for myself," she breathed as she exhaled.

He nodded, helping her lean against the tree trunk. "Yes. It's very eloquent compared to the ones the others' left. Olivia made herself promise to leave this world for our original universe and Peter's is all in Farsi and code."

Her nose wrinkled. "What is 'Farsi and code'?"

"Farsi," he explained, "is another language and 'code' is a system of symbols in which normal language is converted to allow information to be communicated secretly."

These new words were becoming too much. "Converted?"

"He was giving himself a hidden message."

She was thankful that she had told her message in a straightforward manner. "Some of them words…I know what them words mean when I's in the memory because I can feel what them memories is feeling." She bit her lower lip. "But out here…them words is strange."

He gave her a knowing smile. "Don't worry—in time you will relearn the way we spoke. I did."

"I want to see more," she begged.

"You must pace yourself. This is all very jolting for the body to experience." He took her wrist and placed two fingers across it, an action that seemed oddly familiar. "And I believe the Dreamlands were designed to keep people from hanging around here for extended periods of time—are you starting to feel light-headed?"

She nodded. "A touch."

His hand slipped under her elbow. "I've grown accustomed to the climate, but I know you should return to our Home."

Together they began to move back down the mountainside, leaving the Dreamlands; the flowers growing beneath the strange began to chime, beautiful, alien, and familiar.

"I can't hardly believe this is all true," she said softly.

"Do you remember the Flashing in the Night Sky?"

Her chest felt tight—it had been a long time ago, _long, long_ time ago, and while the memory was faint she remembered how..._strange_ it had made her feel. As though she'd wanted to cry, though she had no idea why. "Yes."

"What you saw was our universe becoming torn apart, the final time. There were three major collisions—the 'three stars', as the myth goes—and then our universe as we knew it was no more." He gestured around them. "Home is a singular floating island in space, a small disk in an infinite ocean."

A strange, but familiar term entered her mind and spilled out her mouth before she could completely process it. "A flat earth."

"Yes!" Mr Walter said excitedly. "If we were to climb to the other side of these mountains that surround us, we would find it drops off to nothingness."

"How's we supposed to go back to our universe if it don't exist no more?" she asked, trying to picture what the Otherside must look like, what the world outside of Home was like.

"There are small shreds left, chunks left in existence." He gave a heavy sigh. "We'll have to build it back from scratch. From your abilities."

Her nose wrinkled. "My 'bilities?"

His face became unreadable. "You are capable of many wonderful and beautiful things, Astrid. There was a reason you were my assistant—I was trying to coax your gift."

"What can I do that's so special?"

He glanced at her, giving a strange smile. "You are able to wish things to happen."

She shook her head, as this was a very explainable thing. "The Lord be simply answerin' my prayers."

"Astrid, you don't have to ask him—you are able to perform miracles on your own." He stopped in the path and turned to her. "All three of you children…you were so capable of great and wonderful things…but Belly and I weren't able to train you in time. The Others were too strong."

"Belly...you's talkin' 'bout Pastor Bell?" This was very funny to her. "You was friends with him on the Otherside? I don't think he like you much here."

"He doesn't." He paused and corrected himself. "No, the people here can't feel animosity toward anyone. He is...unsure how to deal with me. I'm an anomaly here. I don't belong."

She nodded at the new knowledge and then asked, "Can I do miracles here?"

They continued walking. "I'm sure you could. It would take time…breaking the rest of the ties to this world."

"Why would we maked this world so we can't do no miracles?" She touched the apple in her pocket, imagining the small black foetuses inside, sleeping.

"The return to our universe had to be a conscious choice. One had to be willing to leave Home before your eyes could be opened."

"You done _maked_ me remember. I wadn't willin'," she accused, thinking of the strange syrup he'd forced down her throat the day before.

He gave her a dry smile. "Ah, but you were willing to come back to my cabin to find out more. If you had truly been happy with this world, you wouldn't have come to me to find what you were missing."

"But this world is Eden, idn't it?"

"It is. But it isn't where you belong. You can feel that, can't you?"

She nodded solemnly. "I want to belong here, though."

He gave her a very sad, distant smile. "I know. For the longest time I wanted to belong here as well."

They continued down the mountainside out of the Dreamlands without any more words, both in their own private mourning over the loss of the connexion they shared with the other inhabitants of the world they lived in. Astrid's hand rest comfortably in Mr Walter's as she thought about the people here, who had been part of her life every day and now...didn't seem so close.

Quite suddenly, Mr Walter's hand dropped hers and she was shaken out of her thoughts, looking up to see what was wrong. Mr Walter's eyes were focused ahead of them, looking down the path and she spotted Pastor Bell, her blood running cold. The Pastor approached them quickly and his usual smile was missing, instantly signalling to her that something was wrong. Instinctively she stood next to Mr Walter, scared of whatever repercussions she might be facing for where she'd been.

"Miss Astrid, Mr Walter," he greeted slowly when he finally reached them on the Pasture's path; he didn't sound happy to see them.

"Pastor Bell! Mighty fine evenin'," she said nervously, trying to push her curls out of her eyes.

The apple was in her dress' pocket and she hoped he wouldn't know she had it.

"And a fine evenin' to you, too." Pastor Bell and Mr Walter's eyes locked on one another's while Pastor Bell spoke to her. "Was you two up past Lake Reiden this afternoon?"

Her heart pounded. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought I saw you."

Astrid wasn't entirely sure how she was able to do it, but the words that came out of her mouth weren't true. "It weren't us, Pastor Bell."

His eyes shifted to focus on her and for a moment she thought he didn't believe her, but then he said, "Well, remember that the good book tells us to stay away from the Dreamlands. You ain't supposed to be goin' there or wantin' to."

"Yes, sir," she agreed dutifully.

Mr Walter's hand gently looped under her elbow, starting to lead her away.

"Come along, little Aspen tree," he said lowly, his eyes still locked on Pastor Bell's.

She nodded her head at the tall man as Mr Walter began to navigate them back down the path. "Be seein' you later, Pastor Bell."


	7. Chapter 7

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

Home's Schoolhouse sat in the glen of Wide Holler, a small one-room building and as old as the Church. The logs it was constructed from were from the Woods, grey from age and weathering. Miss Amy Jessup had once tried to count the rings, but they were paper-thin, easily in the thousands and she gave up at three hundred eighty-one because the sun was setting. Long auburn hair, tanned skin, and a glorious constellation of freckles across her nose and cheeks made up the young woman, a personality that matched her beauty.

The handful of children that lived in Home followed her after church service every morning to the Schoolhouse—on one occasion Mr Nick had told her _"you's lookin' like one of them mama ducks with her little ducklings all in a row, bein' led from the Pastures to the Swimmin' Hole"_. She was the designated school teacher of Home and she took her job very seriously, trying to nurture the young mind that were hers to mould. Today they would be looking at the leaves of the wild licorice that grew in the Woods, finding round pebbles down at the creek, studying the leaves they found on the ground and other things that corresponded with the land they lived in.

"I like snails!" Ella chirped happily as she picked up pebbles along the path.

"Me, too!" another child named Lucy shouted out happily, prompting other small children to agree.

"Snails is beautiful because they has their own homes on their back," Amy explained to them, hoping that they could see wonder for themselves.

"The Lord God made them as such," the children said in unison.

From the trees emerged a lanky man that made her heart race. "Miss Amy."

"Mr Nick!" she greeted, feeling flustered. The children crowded around her, waving their small hands at the storyteller. "What is you doin' out here? Ain't you busy with the ways and means of Home?"

He gave her a teasing smile. "I's just out wanderin'. Thinkin'."

"Tell us the ways and means of Home, Mr Nick!" one of the children asked and the rest of them began to happily request a story from him.

Mr Nick smiled at her and she blushed, gesturing for the children to sit down on the edge of the path so that they could hear one of the oral histories that they all knew and loved.

"Now, you young'uns know not to go past Reiden Lake, yes?" he asked them sternly.

"Yes, Mr Nick," they agreed.

"Past Reiden Lake is Big Rock Candy Mountain and while its name sounds right fine, it ain't a place you want to go. Big Rock Candy Mountain be the place where the Dreamlands are."

"We ain't supposed to want The Dreamlands," the children replied immediately, the teachings from Church heavily ingrained in their minds.

Mr Nick nodded. "The Dreamlands is the gateway between this world and the next. Many dark, ugly things wait there. Them Dreamlands things look safe and goodlike, but they ain't."

"Not too scary, Mr Nick," Amy warned softly.

She herself was frightened by the stories of what lurked in The Dreamlands and she couldn't imagine small children would be any braver than her.

As Mr Nick continued talking, Amy found herself unable to look away from him, a warm feeling creeping through her body. Out of all the people in Home, there was no doubt in Amy's mind that she was incredibly fond of Mr Nick. There were many things she liked about him and during the times she was alone, she spent a lot of time thinking about him. On his right upper arm he had a large birthmark that looked like a large pine tree and sometimes she wished she had the opportunity to count how many branches were there. And on the left side of his face he had a terrible scar from when he was a child; she couldn't exactly remember how he'd received it, but she thought it brought attention to his eyes, which she believed she could stare into for days if she could. She liked the way he laughed, the way he smiled, the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he told the ways and means of Home—everything.

But most of all, she liked how when he was happy, everyone felt happy. It was as though his feelings were contagious and she knew she could bask in it forever.

Mr Nick's story lasted until the sun was ready to set and she was sad to have him stop so she could usher the children back to their respective homes. Mr Nick of course offered to help her, but she insisted that his thinking of Home was far more important and left him in the Woods.

Amy didn't visit the Swimmin' Hole in the afternoon with the other women as she was busy watching the children, so she took her opportunity to wash herself and her clothing in the evening when the children went home. This was coincidentally the same time Mr Nick came to the Swimmin' Hole. He was already in the Swimmin' Hole this evening when she arrived.

"Miss Amy," he greeted, a slight tinge to his cheeks as he looked up at her.

"Mr Nick," she murmured with a nod. "The water right?"

"Yes. He turned around to give her privacy as she slipped out of her dress and into the water.

"I brought you somethin'," he said, swimming over to one of the large boulders edging the Swimmin' Hole that kept his clothing.

She joined him, treading alongside him as she accepted the small, glimmering stone he handed her. "It's pretty."

"I ain't knowin' much about pretty things 'cept for you," he said.

"I ain't thinkin' of myself as pretty," she said bashfully.

His fingers cupped her chin. "You is."

"You's rather handsome yourself, Mr Nick," she said softly, touching his cheek.

Their silence was enough and they parted to finish their washing, the moon beginning to rise over the mountains. He knew how frightened she was of the stories of the Wild Things he told and as he did every evening, he offered out his arm and asked her if she would like to be walked home. She always accepted.

As they walked together, he told her the stories of the stars above, how there were once three great explosions, the death of three stars and she leaned closer to him as he spoke of their world. Of course, reaching her cabin was always bittersweet as she was happy to be out of the dark, but it meant she had to say goodnight to Mr Nick for the day. They held hands, murmuring gentle words to one another and they shared a chaste kiss before he left.

She took the glimmering pebble and placed it in a jar next to her bed.

* * *

The next morning after Church, Nick was mumbling to himself about the origin of the small buttercups that grew along the stream, trying to sound out a possible poem to make for Miss Amy when movement to his left made him glance up. An adolescent stood across the small waterway shyly, flicking his head to move the auburn hair from his eyes. Nick smiled and sat back on his heels, forgetting about the flowers.

"Good mornin', Tyler. How is you doin' today?" he asked.

Tyler nodded. "All good an' fine, Mr Nick."

Tyler Carson was a shy boy, though very clever and admittedly something of a mischief maker, not unlike Nick himself.

"Somethin' I can help you with?" He cocked his head to the side and joked, "You ain't lost, is you?"

Tyler grinned and shook his head which caused his hair to become messy once more. "I want to be a storyteller like you is, Mr Nick."

"It ain't just storytellin', Tyler. It is our history, our ways and means," Nick pointed out, standing up.

"I know!" Tyler insisted. "But I's really wantin' to learn them all, so I'll be a storyteller like you one day."

"Long, long time ago," Nick started, slinging his arm over Tyler's shoulder as they walked along the stream.

"Long, long time ago," Tyler echoed softly, the way listeners were supposed to.

Nick's hands began to move, illustrating the words he said. "The good and greatest Lord God made us this place. He made Home for us, his chosen people. We is his chosen people. He make us this Garden of Eden so we do not have to want. We is given all we could ever want, a beautiful, pure world without sin."

"Do you think I could be a storyteller one day, Mr Nick?"

Nick ruffled the boy's hair, which prompted the younger of the two to duck out of his reach, causing Nick to laugh. "A good one."

* * *

Nick walked through Wide Holler along the path way that lead from Pastor Bell's cabin through the waist-high stalks of wheat, his fingertips brushing the tips of the slightly prickly husks. Pastor Bell had wanted to hear the story of the Dreamlands, which seemed funny to Nick, considering the pastor told it to them every morning, but Nick happily complied, doing his best to give any detail he could think of relating to the mysteries of what lie in their forbidden lands.

He was now headed back to the Flats where he hoped to find Miss Amy when he passed one of the cabins located in Wide Holler. Two figures were sitting side by side on the edge front porch of the cabin, the tall man's feet planted firmly in the dirt and the small woman's toes not quite reaching the ground at all. They were talking quietly to one another; her red hair glimmered copper in the afternoon light, swaying slightly as she laughed at something the man said, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiled affectionately at her and touched his hand momentarily to hers.

"Afternoon, Mr Philip, Miss Nina," he called out, his gait slowed to a halt.

Miss Nina waved to him. "Good afternoon, Mr Nick. You doin' well this right fine day? Come sit an' have some of this here mulberry juice with us."

She gestured to a metal tray that held a third full jar of juice and Nick took the invitation to leave the path for their cabin. He sat down on the porch beside Mr Philip and took a drink of the cool, thick liquid.

"Mighty nice of you, Miss Nina," he said, licking the purple off his upper lip. He looked at the object in Mr Philip's hands that he was sanding. "New mixin' spoon, Mr Philip?"

Mr Phillip nodded. "Miss Nina broke the last one."

"Sometimes I ain't knowin' my own strength." She flexed her right hand and laughed. "I done broke so many before!"

"But I's happy to be doin' it," Mr Philip admitted, smiling at her in an incredibly fond way.

"Mr Nick, could you be tellin' us the story of them Woods? Of them tall trees?" Miss Nina asked, Mr Philip nodding in agreement.

Nick smiled and they did in turn; Miss Nina rest her head on Mr Philip's shoulder contently as Nick thought for a moment, his eyes closing as he pictured the tall trees that populated their beautiful Home.

"Them trees in the Woods is very old and tall so that we may feel small and childlike before the wonders of the Almighty Lord…"

* * *

As dawn broke the horizon, Amy prepared herself for Church, standing in the doorway of her cabin; the air was slightly chill and she had poured herself an old jam jar full of tea to warm herself. Her cabin was located in the deep forest, not far from the schoolhouse, isolating her in the beauty of the Woods. She breathed in the wonderful wafting perfume from the wild flowers that had been woven into long hanging vines that covered her doorway and were at the moment draping over her shoulders. She raised the jar to her lips, almost taking her first sip of tea when she saw something at the edge of the Woods that made her heart stop. The jar fell from her hand to the ground below, soft moss cushioning the glass as the warm tea poured out and seeped into the earth. A little boy was crouching at the tree line, eldritch pale and quite obviously not belonging to the people of Home.

A Mandrake Child.

"Hello," she greeted slowly, unsure what to think of what she was seeing. "Right fine mornin', ain't it?"

But the child said nothing, merely stared.

She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself. "C'mere young'un. Ain't you cold? It'd airish right now."

The little boy sat back on his heels, wrapping his arms around himself in the same fashion she had.

"What be your name, young'un?" she asked, captivated by his unblinking, piercing blue eyes. Again he said nothing and she gently prodded, "You don't talk? But you look like you understandin' me."

She took a step forward, which seemed to spook the child, who began to scramble backwards towards the trees.

"Don't be afeared! I ain't gonna hurt you," she promised.

The little boy paused to look to look at her once more then disappeared into the Woods, leaving Amy absolutely speechless. She stood for a moment more, wondering if she'd imagined what she'd seen and then began race towards the Church to find the one person she knew could tell her what to do.

Mr Nick was walking through the Flats with Mr Philip and Miss Nina, talking to them when she came running down the pathway, her bare feet kicking up small pebbles while the ribbons in her hair fluttered helplessly behind her.

"Mr Nick!" she shouted, waving a hand to catch his attention.

"Miss Amy! Everwhat bringin' you here like this?" he asked as she tugged him off the pathway to give them privacy from the two dumbfounded denizens.

"A Wild Thing!" she hissed. "I saw it this mornin'!"

"A Wild Thing!" he gasped.

"It was a young'un," she whispered, feeling both giddy and scared.

"A young'un Wild Thing?" He cocked his head to one side. "Oh, you ain't talkin' about a dream—"

"No, a real Wild Thing! He were about this tall and pale white, like he ain't never seen the sun," she insisted.

"Well, I reckon that Wild Things could be young'uns, too." His brow furrowed. "And you seen one? I'd a-thought that if anyone was to seen a Wild Thing it'd be me."

She glanced up in the direction of the Church. "I'm gonna skip service this mornin'. I gotta find that Wild Thing."

His eyes widened. "But what about the children? Who's gonna teach them their lessons?"

"You can do it!" she called back as she began to run back to her cabin.

For the entirety of the morning Amy spent her time wandering around the edge of her cabin's clearing in the Woods, calling for the Mandrake Child; as the sun reached its zenith she'd nearly given up, feeling it was hopeless for her to seek out one of the Lord God's mysteries when a slight rustle in the ferns caused her pause.

"Where is you, little Wild Thing?" she called out softly.

Out from behind one of the trees peeked a small, pale face.

"Good afternoon," she greeted, unable to fight back her large smile. "How is you, little'un?"

He said nothing, instead leaning down to roll something small towards her, peering at her curiously. She picked up the small glass orb, yellow streaked with white and shimmers of gold.

"You like marbles, little'un?" Her eyes widened as she realised she recognised the small the piece of glass. "Why, this is one of mine! I lost it a long, long time ago."

He gave her a shy smile, rolling something else down to her feet.

"A acorn!" She held the acorn up. "You like them acorns, little'un? Or do you think this is one of them marbles?"

Without warning, the Mandrake Child seemed to fade into the shadows, disappearing completely from her sight.

"No, don't be scared, little Wild Thing!" she called out, pleading for his return.

When it became apparent that the Mandrake Child would not be returning, Amy sought out Mr Nick who'd taken the children down to Wide Holler to listen to the story of the wheat that grew there. Upon seeing her, Mr Nick sent the children off to collect their own stalks of grain so that they could talk privately.

He kept his voice low. "Were he there?"

"He gave me this." She handed him the marble she'd put in her pocket.

"Ain't this that marble you lost…" He bit the inside of his check as he tried to remember exactly when she'd lost it, but when he couldn't place when it was, so he finished with, "a long, long time ago?"

"Long, long time ago!" she agreed and dug out another small object from her dress' pocket. "And he gave me this acorn, too!"

"What'd you give him?" he asked, looking between the marble and the acorn.

She winced. "Nothin'. I ain't even think about that."

"Little'uns like them sweet things," Mr Nick said very wisely.

"Little'uns like them sweet things," she agreed, thinking of the small jar of sugar lumps she had on the shelf next to her cabin's fireplace.

Mr Nick pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, his hand lingering for a moment on her cheek. "You best go back to the Wild Thing. I'll take care of the young'uns."

"Thank you, Mr Nick," she murmured, standing on her toes to give him a kiss on the lips.

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but the children giggling from among the wheat at the display of affection cut the moment short and she left him standing with a bewitched look on his face. Her cheeks burned the entire time she hurried back home, trying not to let her feelings towards the storyteller of Home distract her from the thoughts of the Mandrake Child that had sought her out.

"Little Wild Thing," she called out once she returned to her cabin and before she could count to ten, the little boy appeared at the edge of the Woods.

"I brought you somethin'," she explained, holding out the handful of small sugar rocks. "You likin' it, little'un?"

She offered it out to him which coaxed him within arm's length, trying to prompt him to eat it before he cocked his head slightly and then held one of the sweets up to her mouth.

"Oh, it's for you—" she started to say, but he took the opportunity to put the little candy between her lips before scampering off to hide in the ferns once more.

His little face was lit up in delight and the curiosity in his eyes made her want to share everything she knew with him.

"Come back! I got another one!" she called out.

He peeked out from the ferns again, a beaming smile on his face before disappearing into the shadows once more. Amy burst out into laughter, shaking her head at the apparent miscommunication of intentions. Leaving the jar of sugar candies on the front step of her cabin in case he might return, she went inside to collect the few items she had of value that she could offer for the services she required. In Wide Holler, Amy went to find Miss Annabelle, the draper.

"Afternoon, Miss Amy," Miss Annabelle greeted as she plucked the herbs that grew alongside her cabin.

"I's wonderin' if you had some cloth to spare." Amy opened the top of her basket and began to take out the few objects she had brought with her to trade for the materials she required. "I's got a jar of marmalade and some ribbon and this here bowl and a bag a biscuits."

"Oh, Miss Amy." Miss Annabelle smiled at her, halting Amy and shaking her head. "If you's needin' fabric, I can give them to you." Taking her by the hand, Miss Annabelle led her inside and over to the chest of drawers that held the prized textiles. She opened the bottom most drawer and began to remove large swatches of different colours. "You's makin' a dress?"

"No, no." Amy touched a heavy brown cloth that she thought might make good trousers and murmured, "This be 'bout right."

Miss Annabelle frowned. "You can't hardly make nothin' with that."

Amy was deep in thought, avoiding a direct answer to what she needed the fabric for. "And this is the prettiest yellow…" She glance back at Miss Annabelle. "I can take them?"

"You sure that enough?" Miss Annabelle asked skeptically as she looked at the cloth in Amy's hands.

Amy smiled and nodded. "It's right fine."

"Well, if you's needin' more, then you know where to get it," the other woman offered as Amy began to leave the cabin.

"Thank you Miss Annabelle." Miss Annabelle's beau came walking up the cabin's pathway and she nodded to him. "Mr Will."

"Miss Amy," he acknowledged as she hurried off, leaving the two behind and puzzled.

Her next stop was to Home's seamstress, Miss Krista Manning whose cabin was located in the Flats next to the Dunham sisters'. As expected, Miss Krista was sitting on her front porch, working on a patchwork quilt, her fingers sewing small stitches deftly.

"Miss Krista!" Amy hollered out, catching the young woman's attention as she approached. "Miss Krista, I's needin' you to sew up somethin' for me," she said, hold out the fabric she'd borrowed from Miss Annabelle.

"New dress?" Miss Krista asked curiously as she set the quilt aside to look at what Amy had.

"Clothes for a young'un. Ye high, trousers and a shirt and underthings," Amy explained.

Miss Krista nodded, accepting jar of marmalade that Amy offered her. "I'll has 'em for you in the mornin', before Church."

Amy smiled in relieved gratitude. "Thank you."

Amy didn't see the Mandrake Child that night or the next morning which left her feeling restless, wondering if she'd ever see the child again. And true to her word, Miss Krista gave her a stack of children's clothing the next morning; Amy felt anxious throughout the entire service, unable to keep her mind from flittering to thoughts of the small clothes in the basket tucked under the pew and who they were for.

After what felt like an eternity, Pastor Bell concluded Church for the day and Amy was quick to seek Mr Nick, telling him,

"You be needin' to watch after them young'uns for me today!"

Mr Nick nodded, gesturing for a ginger haired adolescent to stand with him. "Mr Tyler will help me tell them young'uns stories."

"Thank you," she said to both of them, leaving the two to tend to the children once again.

Patiently, Amy sat on the front step of her cabin, waiting for any sign of the young Mandrake Man. The sun moved slowly across the sky, lighting the silent clearing within the Woods; provided with time to think, Amy pondered the weight of her actions, why she was seeking out to care for a being that looked so similar to the people she belonged to but had obvious mystical association with the guardianship of Home. She didn't think of herself as a wise person such as Pastor Bell or Mr Nick, but she knew that if the Wild Thing had chosen to reveal himself to her, it was for a reason.

It wasn't until the edge of evening when the ferns moved slightly and out emerged the child she had become so fond of.

"I done brought you somethin'." She showed him the clothing, which he acknowledged with a touch of his fingers. "I ain't so skilled with a needle, but I picked out them colours." She gestured for him to come closer to her so she could put them on him. "Lemme help you."

His fingers thread through the loose strands of hair she hadn't managed to tie back as she dressed him. She stood up and looked down at him, adjusting the collar of his shirt as a final touch. "There! Now you be lookin' nice right!"

He tilted his head, his startling pale eyes studying her face for a moment then gave her a smile. She cupped his face and gently used a handkerchief she wet with her spit to wipe off the smudges of dirt on his alabaster skin.

"Little Wild Thing, you is in dire need of a mother to be a-keepin' you clean," she sighed, studying his emotionless features. "And feedin' you and teachin' you the ways and means of Home."

The child once again tried to put one of the little candies in her mouth and she chuckled, allowing him an opportunity to slip on in. His mouth suddenly opened and he let out a loud, harsh, dry wheeze. She flinched slightly and drew back, but when she saw the large smile on his face, she let out a startled laugh as she realised that he was trying to express happiness, trying to laugh with her. Suddenly his eyes clouded and he looked past her, trying to retreat back into the ferns. She glanced back over her shoulder and could see someone was coming up the path towards her cabin.

"Miss Amy!" a man called out and she recognised the voice as belonging to Mr Nick.

Amy held onto the struggling Wild Thing by the wrist, trying to calm him by insisting, "It'd only Mr Nick! He a right good man!"

"Miss Amy—oh my." Mr Nick stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing her kneeling with the frightened child. "Is this that little Wild Thing you done tell me about?"

"Little'un, this be Mr Nick." Amy gave him a comforting smile. "He's our Storyteller, keepin' the ways and means of Home up in his head for all of us."

Mr Nick took off his hat and slowly approached them. His lips began to form a lopsided grin, offering his hand out to the child. "Hello, little Wild Thing. You got a name?"

Amy could see the little Mandrake boy was immediately drawn to Mr Nick, reaching out and touching his hand as he stared at the man in open curiosity.

"He don' talk," she explained. "Real quiet like, ain't you, little'un?"

He let out a violent and terrifying rasp causing Mr Nick's eyes to widen as he backed away slightly. "What he doin'?"

"He's _laughin_'," she murmured softly, feeling a strange pride and warmth inside of her.

"You like Miss Amy, Wild Thing?" Mr Nick asked the child. "She a right nice person takin' you in like this."

"Do you think them Mandrake Men know how to speak like us? Or that they silent just like him?" Amy pondered.

Mr Nick didn't reply as he took the boy by the hand and led him up to her cabin. "You hungry, little'un? I bet Miss Amy has bread and fruit that just be waitin' to be eaten."

In the cabin, Amy watched as Mr Nick fixed a large wooden bowl of berries and chunks of bread, which the Wild Thing took to the doorway where he crouched and ate as he looked outside.

"Nick, you ever a-wantin' to be a father?" Amy asked quietly as they stood side by side, watching the child.

His cheeks became red and he gently took her hands in his. "Only if you is plannin' on bein' a mother."

"The good Lord tells us to ask and ye shall receive. What if we's been askin' to be a mother and father and we ain't even be _knowin'_ it." She leaned her head close to his. "I think the Lord is givin' me and you a son."

He glanced over to boy who sat in the doorway. "How we be knowin' that this little'un is needin' a mother and father?"

Amy worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment as she thought. "Me and you is goin' have to wait for a sign from the Lord."

Mr Nick nodded and together they closed their eyes as she began to speak. "Lord God, if it be your divine and mighty will, let me and Mr Nick here know if you be wantin' us to be a mother and father to the Mandrake child."

Mr Nick kissed her softly on the cheek. "Amen."

* * *

The next morning Amy woke up in her bed, the earliest slivers of light creeping through the garlands that hung across the doorway. She yawned and shifted in her bed, nuzzling her nose into the soft down pillow before remembering the small Wild Thing that she'd fallen asleep with the night before. She sat up quickly, her movement waking Mr Nick, who'd spent the night on the floor.

The Child was gone.

"He's gone," Amy said softly, her heart feeling quite broken.

Nick came off the floor to sit with her on the bed, one of his arms draping over her shoulders and pulling her close so that she could lean her head against his. A single tear slid down her cheek as she wondered what she could have done differently, what she'd possibly done to cause the little Mandrake boy to leave.

"Them Wild Things is like us and they ain't," she said in soft defeat.

Mr Nick pulled her closer, making comforting shushing noises, putting a finger to her lips as he looked at the doorway. He left her sitting on the bed, pushing aside the woven vines of flowers that hung across her cabin's entrance before glancing back at her, a large smile on his face.

"Amy—Amy, come look!"

Leaving the bed to join him, Amy inhaled sharply, her hand coming up to her heart as she stepped out onto the front step of her home. What was once mossy ground was a field of large white tulips, surrounding her small cabin, covering the pathway, trickling up into the Woods. Sitting amongst the white blossoms was the little boy, the Wild Thing that Amy had grown fond of. His small fingers traced over the smooth petals and she leaned against Mr Nick as he wrapped his arm around her. The little boy smiled at them as he continued to play among the tulips.


	8. Chapter 8

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

Astrid's pulse had relaxed some since encountering Pastor Bell on the pathway, deciding that the must have convinced him that they hadn't been up in the Dreamlands. Once in the cabin, Mr Walter went over to the shelves; out of a rusty tin container he pulled a rolled stick of ash grey bark, setting it upright in a small jar filled with sand. He began to search the shelves for something.

"What is that?" she asked curiously.

"Bark from the Trees of Morpheus. It peels off just like cinnamon—I don't know if you remember that."

He found what he was looking for under the bed—a small tin of matches.

She closed her eyes for a moment and pictured the small jars filled with ground cinnamon—she'd never stopped to think where it came from. "I thought it was a spice."

"It is. But it comes from the bark of the cinnamon tree. Cinnamomum _Lauraceae_."

She nodded. Even though the information was new, it seemed familiar, right.

"I've found that this works quite well as an incense. It has the same, though milder, properties of the fruit." Mr Walter took the dried bark and lit the end with a match before blowing it out, the smouldering wood giving off thin, lazy tendrils of smoke that drifted towards the ceiling.

The cabin was dark despite it being midday—the single window faced the Woods so the shading branches of the large conifers blocked out most of the light as did the dingy windowpanes. Mr Walter didn't bother to tie back the heavy burlap curtains over the doorway, so only hints of gold peeked around the bottom and edges; the air was still inside and just hot enough to be uncomfortable, making her pluck at the front of her dress to fan it against her skin. For a moment she stood there in the centre of the cabin, lost in her own thoughts when the silence emphasised the sound of the other man's bare feet padding across the floorboards.

She could feel him standing behind her, the movement of his breath against her curls and her entire body became tense, fearful of why he was suddenly so close to her. Completely still, she waited for him to say something—anything—but when he didn't she turned to look at him. Immediately, Astrid found herself with her back against the wall of his cabin. In the dark his eyes glinted, a flash of pale blue. He was a wild and dangerous man whom she knew wouldn't follow the unspoken laws of Home, who lacked the virtue of the people she'd lived with for so long and she felt trapped in more ways than one.

He leaned his body in close until they were completely against one another; he breathed in her skin, the tip of his nose barely skimming over her neck. His face was so close to hers, but it was the only part of his self that didn't seem to touch her. He gave a low, dark chuckle and she realised that she was shaking in his hold. His fingertips touched the side of her face, tracing along her cheekbone, then his hand left and trailed down her body, momentarily cupping the swell of her breast through her dress, down the side of her hip, to the hem of her dress. Her breathing had become sharp and quick and her eyes widened when his fingers made their way slowly back up the side of her thigh, the hem of her dress draping over his wrist as he touched her bare skin.

Astrid kept her eyes focused on the only window of the cabin, trying not to show him the fear she felt. Her breath hitched slightly as she realised where his hand was attempting to venture and she turned her head quickly to look at him. It all seemed so familiar and yet she was sure she'd never done anything like this before. Should she stop him? And would she want him, too? Before him, she'd never faced the unknown and right now it was terrifying, though exciting.

The afternoon sun had made the cabin hot and with the adrenaline now coursing in her body, her dress began to stick to her skin, almost unbearable, but she didn't dare move lest he immobilise her further. She could sense he was toying with her and she could only fathom how dangerous he was without any form of moral restraint he was showing now. Had she liked this in her other life? She certainly liked it so far but maybe it was because she'd never had anything similar before.

"Mr Walter," she whimpered softly in the dark of the cabin.

"_Doctor_," he hissed through clenched teeth—she could tell it was taking all his self-control not to rip the threadbare cotton of her dress off her.

"Dr Walter," she started again, though in truth she had no coherent thoughts to finish.

"I'll go slow with you the first time," he promised throatily and she felt a wave of panic as she had no idea what he meant.

His lips pressed roughly against hers, his fingers finally leaving her legs to grasp possessively at her hips, pulling them against his. She gasped against his mouth, her mind aglow as her body realised how much it had missed this, something it had never had. She couldn't help moving closer to him, her cheeks flushed, her fingers moving the back of his neck, webbing themselves in his greying curls, her eyes closing as she gave up all thoughts to what the Church said, simply wanting what he had to offer—truth, lies, it was all the same. This root doctor might be a snake leading her into temptation, but her eyes were opening in ways that hadn't been possible before him.

"It's been so long," he moaned raggedly into her ear, one of his large hands attempting to make her right nipple stand taut against the cotton of her dress.

She was surprised at how well he seemed to know her body and her mind filled with embarrassment as she realised he _did_ know her body, just not in this world. She questioned how much of her he knew and then she wondered herself how much of him she'd once known.

She breathed in the hot air deeply, the smell of his skin mixing with the heady spiced scent of the Tree of Morpheus' bark. Small flickers of another life passed through her mind, things so familiar she was surprised she could forget them. As his fingers worked at pulling her drawers off of her hips, she could see the sight of his hands holding Starbucks cups of hot chocolate she'd brought for him, her car keys dropping into the candy dish on the side table near her front door, his voice lilting at the discussion of math formulas…

"The Otherside!" she whispered, her eyes wide as his thumbs moved in impossibly perfect circles further up the insides of her thighs.

She wasn't able to say more as his roaming fingers finally found what they sought and she inhaled sharply, her body jerking slightly at the new sensation. Their mouths connected again and she whimpered at his touch, wondering how she could ever carry flowers into Church again. A rivet of sweat ran down her throat and between her breasts, the heavy bead absorbing into her dress before it could travel further down her body. One of his hands cradled the back of her head against the wall while his fingers continued their smooth movements.

Before she became too overwhelmed, he manoeuvred her over to his small bed, pushing her back on the down mattress. Neither were out of their clothes yet and to be honest, Astrid wasn't sure what to do—Walter had to take the lead and so far everything he'd done and shown her was more than she could possibly imagine. His calloused fingers moved up the inside of her ankle, up her calf, to her knee, then down into her thigh—

Her back arched slightly against the mattress, eyes squeezing shut for a moment, then opened once more when she felt the bed dip slightly from his added weight. He knelt between her upturned knees, pushing her dress up around her waist.

"Are you sure this is right?" she asked nervously, her eyes focused on his fingers at his buckle.

Her body was ready and aching for him, though in her mind she had no idea what to expect.

"You can trust me, my dear," he whispered as he began to remove his belt. "_I'm a doctor_."

* * *

It was approaching dusk when Astrid began to make her way quickly back down the mountain towards her home. Her knees were weak and the muscles at the inside of her thigh ached painfully, making it difficult to hurry down the rough path. She had already decided that she would need to go down to the Swimmin' Hole to wash herself and her dress, clean away the perspiration and other fluids that had dried on her skin. One hand clutched the bodice of her dress—he'd torn it open and she'd lost most of the buttons between the floor boards which meant she'd have to find her sewing basket and replace them tonight with ones that wouldn't match. Her throat was dry and ached immensely from the amount of smoke she'd breathed in, further exasperated by the headache brought on by dehydration.

Her mind was in a million different places, her one free hand occasionally reaching out to stabilise herself against the tree trunks she passed as she made her way to the main path. It had been so strange, but oh, it had been so wonderful. She'd seen something—memories that had been lost but flooded her now open mind, showing her who she once was, the world she had once belonged to. The drawings on his cabin wall had all become recognisable—equations, formulas, hydrogen atoms, beautiful diagrams of gravity and motion.. Her thoughts were so clear now—

She ran head on into Pastor Bell when she reached the main path, stumbling backwards.

"Miss Astrid," he said, looking at her curiously.

"Pastor Bell!" she squeaked, startled and horrified that he was seeing her in the state she was in.

His eyes flitted across the scratches on her arms, to the hand holding the front of her dress together and her obviously dishevelled look and his brow furrowed. "Is you all right?"

She nodded a little too ardently. "Oh, yes, I just got caught up in some brambles."

His eyes narrowed further. "You ain't too hurt?"

"No, no. I'm okay. Just…those brambles," she said, knowing her cheeks were flushed.

He nodded slowly, still regarding her with uncertainty. "I'll be seein' you in the mornin' then, Miss Astrid."

Her eyes returned to the ground as she began to hurry back down the mountain face, calling after her, "Evening, Pastor Bell!"

She didn't have to turn around to know that he was looking up in the direction of Walter Bischoff's cabin.


	9. Chapter 9

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

_Astrid is doing grocery shopping after work, a boring mindless task and as she studies a carton of eggs, trying to find the words on the label that say 'cage free' and 'organic', someone behind her speaks. _

"_Child."_

_She turns around and drops the carton of eggs, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. "Oh my god!"_

_An Observer stands there, his hand reaching out to grab her gently but firmly by the wrist. "You must come with me."_

_There are people staring at her, but she disregards them and the fallen eggs that have broken across the floor, flecks of the yolks on her trousers. He begins to lead her away from her cart and her mind is moving a mile a minute._

"_Is everything all right? Is Walter okay? Peter and Olivia?" she whispers loudly, horrified at what must have happened to cause one of the mysterious beings to come for her._

"_They are being collected right now," he says as they rush past rows of cereals, canned soups, and frozen goods._

"_Oh, thank God," she sighs in relief, a hand going up to touch her heart. They push past people trying to get into the checkout lines, causing more staring and she asks, "Where are you talking me?"_

"_It will be safe," he assures her._

"_My purse—" she cries out as they reach the automatic doors. _

_They break into a run and he gives her an emotionless stare. "You will not need one where we are going."_

_People in the parking lot are watching them and she wonders momentarily what they are thinking as they watch the two of them pushing past stray carts and dodging cars trying to back out. No doubt they think they've just robbed the place or she's being kidnapped, but as she's not screaming for help, no one tries to stop their departure._

"_Am I in danger?" she shouts, adrenaline coursing through her veins—she feels panic, not knowing what is truly going on._

_His voice is chilling. "Always."_

_They reach a black car and instinctively she knows it's his. He opens the back door and for a moment the images of Christine Harris' abduction flash through her mind. But she knows that she can trust the Observers—Walter promised them that the Observers were on their side, looking out for them and Astrid takes anything the doctor says in absolute faith._

_He ushers her into the back seat and runs around to the driver's side. She starts to find buckle herself in, but she realises the seat belts in the back seat have been removed._

_Her eyes star at the back of his smooth head. "What's your name?"_

"_July." He glances back at her for a moment and instructs, "Keep your head down."_

_She lays her body across the back seat, listening to the tires of their car squealing as he peels out of the parking lot and gripping her fingers tight to the upholstery to keep herself from falling at the car's movement. "I'm Astrid."_

* * *

_Their location looks like an old, but unassuming warehouse, far off in the outskirts of town, rusting steel walls and filthy windows. There are almost a dozen cars parked out front, two of them on fire and the rest black and still smoking. When Astrid is completely clear of the car they arrived in, July sets his hand on the car and it erupts in flames. _

"_So that they can't identify you were in it," he explains before she can ask._

_She feels chills run up her spine. "Who?"_

"_The ones from the Otherside. They would be able to feel the aura you had left."_

_His hand takes her wrist again, gentle but firm, and leads her into the warehouse. It's empty, huge, and dimly lit, which prevents any of the rising moon's light from coming through the grimy film over the windows. As they walk across the warehouse floor, images and shapes around them flicker, there one second and gone the next; people, equipment, lighting all shift around them like ghosts or other such apparitions. She feels as though she's walking waist deep in a river, trudging across the floor._

_They finally stop walking and she looks around at the sudden strange mechanical equipment that's lined in rows, she and July standing in the central walk way between them. For a moment they remind her of antique printing presses, but she knows how ridiculous that is and she turns to the Observer who has her, smelling the rich scent of fresh ink._

"_Where are we?"_

_He doesn't blink. "1902."_

_Her eyes widen and she sputters, "What?"_

_He looks as though he's listening for something. "I must wait for the others to send me the proper coordinates to join you with them."_

"_We're in 1902?" She realises that they haven't just been walking through the warehouse, but through time. "Are we in this universe?"_

_He tilts his head slightly. "Where else would we be?"_

_She nearly starts to explain that she knows about the alternate realities when his eyes momentarily glaze over, then clear to look at her once more. "They've sent the information. Are you ready to move?"_

"_Yes."_

_Again they start to move and Astrid is conscious of the time shifting around them. When the flickering stops and the warehouse returns to its empty, poorly lit form, she realises that they are 'here', wherever that might be. This time, towards the back where the staircase is, are a group of people in back suits, standing around the people she was most concerned about. _

"_Walter!" she shouts, breaking into a run. _

_He sweeps her into his arms, murmuring softly into her ear, "I'm all right, I'm all right..."_

_Before the hug can become obviously 'too long for people who are just friends', they part and she embraces the other two people she'd been worried about. "Peter! Olivia!"_

_After they assure her that they're fine, too, does Astrid stand back to look at who exactly brought them there. Aside from July, there are nine other tall Observers—and a surprisingly familiar little face as well. _

"_The Child!" she gasps, her hands going to her mouth for a second time. The boy that had been found beneath the building stands among them, pale and silent in a suit and tie. "He's one of you!"_

_An Observer that looks considerably older nods slowly, once. "Your kind have a hard time focusing on ours. That is why when you see us, you don't notice us."_

_Walter's voice is quiet, somewhere between angry and tired. "Our eyes slide right off them. We aren't able to make a connexion."_

"_I thought there were twelve of you?" Olivia asks, looking between them._

"_One of our own died," July says simply._

"_The one that had Christine Hollis?" Olivia asks._

"_She is important now," the Observers say in unison, save for the smallest one._

_The four humans exchange looks and simply decide to leave the mysterious statement at that. The Observers gesture for them to sit in the four chairs that have been arranged in a circle and as they move to sit down, Peter asks in an accusatory tone,_

"_Why are we here?"_

_Walter looks bitter. "Isn't it obvious? The universe is ending."_

* * *

_The Observers have spent the past hour explaining who is coming for them, that the two universes are preparing to collide, and that the end is near. It's eery to hear them speak at the same time, telling them that they are going to save the four humans in the room. They sit in a circle of folding chairs, the Observers standing around them in a ring, dark and ominous._

_Peter looks numb. "So what you're saying is that we can't be allowed die."_

"_You are important. You are unique," the Observers say in unison._

"_You want to hide us." Olivia shakes her head as the group starts to process the heavy information. "I don't understand. How can you hide us here if the Alternate Universe is threatening to destroy this universe?"_

"_You will not be hidden here," the one named December says plainly._

"_We will make a world for you. One that the Others cannot find," July adds._

"_You are the ones they must destroy for their victory," 'Walter's Friend' explains._

"_We have to die so they can live." Astrid's stomach churns. _

_The Observers nod once and agree, "You are unique."_

"_I wish you guys would stop saying that," Peter snaps._

"_It's the **Cortexiphan**," Walter says angrily, standing up to pace. He lowers his head slightly and begins to rub the bridge of his nose as he walks back and forth."You...you children were all special. Peter, because he was from the Others' World...Olivia, because your abilities responded so well with the Cortexiphan enhancement...Astrid..." He pauses and looks up at her apprehensively, almost guiltily. "Astrid, because your abilities responded so well with the Cortexiphan..."_

"_What?" She blinks and then says slowly, "I was never given Cortexiphan, Walter."_

_He nods. "Yes, you were. You were part of a secondary group as a child. We offered them out as vaccinations to a small percentage of the population that was qualified. We never did much follow-up..."_

"_No...no, I'm not like that. I don't have super powers," she says defensively, terrified at being something more than normal._

"_You do." He gives a ragged sigh."How many times have you wished for something, only for it to come true?"_

"_That's luck, Walter."_

"_No. It's not. You're able to bend the will of the universe in your favour. In small ways, only because you've never been trained to get something big." His voice suddenly becomes quiet, passionate. "Think about it! Your job! You wished for something exciting in the FBI—something you would excel at, something different! And you got it! You've wished for things to turn out okay and they do!_

_She shakes her head fervently—this is becoming too much for her to listen to. "Wishes aren't real, Walter. It was all coincidence that I got what I...have wished for."_

"_Every birthday wish?"_

"_It was luck!" she shouts, knowing she's trying to convince herself._

_Walter looks triumphant as though he knows she realises what she is. "How many times have you got what you wanted, Astrid? Things that couldn't be on luck alone?"_

_She meets the eyes of the Observers standing around them. "Is he right?"_

"_You are unique," they reply._

"_And they want us dead because of it?" Peter runs his hands through his short hair._

"_You would be able to stop them," Walter and the ten speaking Observers reply at the same time._

"_A trio," Olivia murmurs._

"_Three is a magic number," Peter says in a half hearted joke._

_'Walter's Friend' speaks once more. "They will come for you. We shall hide you before they can find you."_

* * *

"_The new universe shall be tied to one of you," July says plainly._

_A fresh world to be made for them: a paradise, an Eden that awaits to shelter and hide them from the darker forces seeking them. None of the four want the protection—they'd rather stay and fight but this isn't anything they are allowed to negotiate._

_Peter looks at the youngest member of the group. "Astrid is the most compassionate of us all. She is a caretaker."_

"_Olivia is the hero," Astrid says softly, not thinking herself adequate. _

_Olivia shakes her head as if she doesn't want the duty or responsibility for a single second. "Walter knows the most._

_Walter is quiet, staring off into space. "Peter...It should be Peter."_

_The younger man's eyes widen. "Why me?_

_His eyes clears and he looks at them. "All of this is tied to you."_

_At this, Peter becomes angry. "No, Walter, it's all your fault—"_

_Astrid's hand reaches out and she touches Peter's arm gently. "He didn't say you were to blame—he said you were the cause of this."_

_They are quiet again and then Olivia slowly, but unwavering says, "I would want Peter to have the universe if he was comfortable with it."_

"_I'd like it, too," Astrid agrees._

"_But you'd be the best—" he starts to protest._

_Astrid knows herself too well. "I'd be too protective, I think—wouldn't want people to leave. And Olivia would be, too." She nods her head to her right where the elder Bishop sits. "Walter's emotions and mind are too flighty. So that leaves you."_

_Peter looks at his father helplessly. "Walter?"_

_Walter smiles and takes his son's hands in his. "I would be more than happy to put our lives in your hands, son."_

* * *

_Peter takes another drink of the beer, resting the brown bottle back against his knee. An Observer had managed to retrieve the alcohol, but only he was drinking it. The room is silent, the four sitting in a circle, no one looking at one another. Around them stand the eleven remaining Observers, all dressed in their black suits as they await the end of the universe. The air inside the warehouse has cooled and it's night outside; a handful of candles have been lit in the centre of their circle, flickering shadows passing across their faces. _

_Peter finally breaks the silence, his eyes drifting to look between the other three. "We'll have to make a failsafe, something we can use to return to this world if we have to."_

_December speaks next. "The universe will not be accessible from the outside. No one will be able to find you and even if they did, they would not be able to enter. Once you leave, you may not return."_

"_But in the event we are prepared to return to 'here', we must have a way to do so," Olivia says, her forefinger running back and forth over the ironed pleat that runs over her right knee. _

"_A soft spot," Walter agrees, a coffee mug clutched in both hands._

"_But it can't be something that can be accessed accidentally. It has to be something that we have to knowingly retrieve," Astrid muses, her eyes focused on one of the small flames._

"_Little clues, breadcrumbs that can be put together to form a gateway to take us back," Olivia adds softly._

_Peter taps the bottle gently against his knee. "We'll build in memories and knowledge that will link us back."_

_Astrid turns her attention to the Observers, her voice starting to break as she mulls over what they'd been told. "So we're not going to remember anything from here? Our families? Our lives?"_

_July shakes his head while September points out, "How can you miss something you don't remember?"_

"_We will have each other there," Walter reminds her kindly as she begins to cry._

"_I know," she insists, burying her face in her hands. She's embarrassed at how much noise she's making, that its echoing off the steel walls of the warehouse, but she can't help it—this is so miserable. "I don't mean to be ungrateful. I just don't understand why Peter gets to save those people he chose and Olivia gets to keep her sister and her niece."_

_The Observers seem confused by her emotional outburst and the Child looks somewhat distressed; she hates pointing fingers, especially at the people she cares about, but knowing she'll never get to see the people she loves so much ever again while the other three will have family members present, that she'll only have herself. _

_The Observer that Walter calls 'his friend' begins to speak slowly, patiently. "Peter owes Krista Manning her life and Annabelle Mathis and William Ferguson were the people who caused him to reconsider how he viewed his life working in Boston." His open palm gestures towards the woman sitting to Astrid's left. "Olivia is not complete without her sister and her niece." He lowers his hand and tilts his head, as though studying her. "You wish to save people who love you, but were not responsible for your destiny. You are able to move independent of people. That is why Walter is not allowed to pick anyone to save either."_

_She nods her head—she understands what they're saying, but that doesn't make the reality hurt any less. _

_Walter gives her a half-hearted smile. "If it's any consolation, I would've picked you. You make very nice custard."_

_She nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. "I just think it's crap."_

_His emotionless eyes look deep into hers. "Some people were not meant to be saved. You cannot change that."_

_To Astrid's surprise, Olivia's hand holds hers and she instantly feels bad from the guilt in the other woman's eyes. Neither Olivia, nor Peter were asking for special treatment and she shouldn't either._

_'Walter's Friend' continues. "There will be others brought to that universe to be hidden as well, important people that must remain alive and others who shall be brought back to life."_

"_Are we all in this together?" Peter asks softly._

_They say nothing but bring their hands together in the centre. Had there been anything to laugh about, they might have made a joking team cheer. In silence and in tears, they form a pact to save themselves so that one day they might save others._

_December nods and the Observers say in unison, "Then it is so."_


	10. Chapter 10

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

The next morning at the Church, Astrid felt herself uncomfortable and unable to focus—not noticing that a new little boy was sitting on the pew next to Miss Amy and that Mr Peter and Miss Livia kept making eye contact. Her hands were busy worrying the hem of her dress between her fingers and thinking over and over about where she was.

There was no change here. Everything that had happened yesterday was happening again, though with slight differences of course, but Astrid could almost narrate what was going to happen before it occurred. It was alarming that she was able to silently recite word for word what Pastor Bell would say in his sermon—was it truly a hive mind that she'd been part of? One that fed upon the members, dragging them deeper and deeper into the deception they required to live here in their eden?

When the congregation stood to sing another hymn, her body dutifully followed the motions of the other denizens, her mouth mindlessly singing along as the men at the front of the strummed out the music on their banjos and guitar.

"Take me to the water. Take me to the water! Take me to the water, to be baptised. So, none but the righteous, none but the righteous, none but the righteous, shall be saved. So, take me to the water. Take me to the water. Take me to the water, to be baptised." The words felt painful; a song she'd once loved so much reduced to nothing but a hidden message. "I'm goin' back home. I'm tellin', I'm going back home now. Goin' back home, can't stay here no longer."

Astrid bit her lower lip, the rest of the words to the hymn caught in her throat.

_**Home**_.

What was she doing here? She didn't belong in this world, in this safe cocoon that protected them from everything that wanted them.

She was finding it hard to breath, her thoughts coming too quickly and finally she gave a very firm, "No."

She pushed past the Twins whom she sat on the pew with, aware that everyone had stopped singing and only Mr James was left strumming his guitar for a moment more as she bolted out of the Church. She could hear the startled silence and the sound of bare feet running to the Church's doorway to watch her sprint up the path. But no one called after her, no one followed.

As she ran she wondered if she'd caused a disruption within the small universe. How would the people recover? Would they awaken, too?

When she finally made it up to Mr Walter's cabin, she found he was kneeling on the ground, carefully plucking the blue hyacinths that grew en masse around his home, laying the flowers on a piece of canvas. He didn't look up as she stumbled out of the trees into the flowers.

"Mr Walter," she gasped, still out of breath, having to rest her hands on her knees.

"You're not in church," he commented, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"We have to go back to the Otherside." She shook the damp curls from her forehead. "That is our home. Not here."

"No, it's not."

She looked at the flowers stacked on the cloth. "What are you doing?"

"I was going to bring them to place at Elizabeth's grave." He stood up, smiling as he brushed the dirt off his knees. "Well, if you're ready to go, then we should go."

"_Now_?"

"Nothing is holding us back here. This world doesn't exist. I mean, it does, but it's just a dream. Suspended status for our bodies while we wait." His hand folded around the hyacinth and when he opened his fingers again, the flower had vanished. "Nothing. The people are the only real things here."

She thought of the cabin she'd lived in ever since she could remember, wishing she could keep it, but able to feel it disappearing as she stood there. She nodded her head.

"All right."

Mr Walter straightened out his cardigan, headed back in the direction of the Church. "But first, we have to get Peter and Olivia so they can come home with us, too."

She stopped walking, causing him to turn around to look at her. "Mr Walter?"

"Yes, little Asteroid star?"

Gently, _hesitantly_, she took his hands in hers, holding them between their bodies. "What if we were to leave them here?"

He took a stumbling step backwards, a horrified look on his face. "_What_?"

"They're happy _here_."

She could hear an edge of panic in his voice. "But they aren't aware."

"Mayhap they shouldn't be." She quickly added, "Not yet at least."

He was quiet, his eyes darting as his chin began to quiver; he looked so vulnerable and at the back of her mind she knew she'd seen him cry in their other life. A single tear slid down his cheek and his voice broke as he spoke.

"We can't change our mind once we make it there. We can _**never**_ return. They could be trapped here forever."

Her eyes brimmed with tears and she gave him a sad smile, her fingers clutching at his hands. "They've had so much hardship in their lives. Maybe...maybe this world is secretly where they should have always belonged."

He pulled her tightly into his arms and she could feel that he was crying into her hair. They held one another as they wept; it was despair, relief...they might never see the two again, they might have to fight for their birthplace on their own, facing the dangers and uncertainty that waited on the Otherside, their home world.

When they finally pulled apart, wiping their eyes with the back of their hands, Astrid asked, "How do we get there? To the Otherside?"

"I don't know. We should try the Dreamlands." He took one final look at his cabin before they started to head down the mountainside. "We don't need anything from this world for where we are going."

* * *

The Dreamlands were filled with the sounds of whispering in the fog that swirled along the ground, voices of Peter and Olivia and Walter and Astrid...soft and excited, as though they knew why she and Mr Walter were there in the first place. Mr Walter's hand held hers comfortingly as they made their way through the trees; she hadn't realised how dependant she'd become of physical contact with others and she wondered if it would hold over on the Otherside or if she'd reject the opportunity to be close. She hated that thought and she held onto Mr Walter's hand a bit tighter as they past the eerie blue flowers that ticked at an alarmingly quick pace, a count down.

Brilliant apples had fallen from the Trees of Morpheus, their gloss such a deep red it was nearly black; there was movement beneath the skin and she wondered if it was the foetus seeds trying to escape. The pale, six-fingered hands reached down from the leaves, the trees sighing softly as they passed, and when she reached up to touch a hand, Mr Walter stopped her.

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and looked at the trees; a man—bald, pale, and silent—emerged from the shadows and began walking alongside them. She gasped as she realised what he was, gripping onto Mr Walter's arm as more began to reveal themselves. The Mandrake Men all wore black suits, their expressionless faces turning towards her momentarily before focusing on the mountaintop ahead of them.

"What are they doing here?" she hissed to Mr Walter, frightened of their appearance.

But Mr Walter looked happy at their arrival, explaining, "They've come to take us back to our real home."

Her nervousness was replaced with anticipation. "The Otherside?"

He nodded. "Out of Home."

"I thought they were just stories."

He prodded one of them in the shoulder as it passed by. "No, they are quite real."

Astrid was absolutely fascinated with their unusual appearance. "What are they?"

"They are the living embodiments of quantum physics."

One of her eyebrows lifted. "What is a quantum physics?"

"It is too big to explain all at once," he said with an amused smile; something inside her sensed that the Otherside would contain the answers.

One Wild Thing was awaiting them at the mountain's peak; he looked old, tired, and before him floated four fist-size glowing orbs—three green, one red. Astrid watched them circle mind-air slowly, captivated at how beautiful, but also how familiar they were.

Mr. Walter's voice broke the silence."There are supposed to be twelve of you."

The Old Wild Think spoke. "February is with your kind now. August will meet us at the Lake."

Astrid frowned. "The Lake?"

They each took a step forward, Mr Walter leading her along, and hands extended, touched the orbs. The world around them shivered, slowly morphing from the dark mountaintop to the far shores of Lake Reiden. The sky was pitch black and full of stars, night time. Astrid's hand found Mr Walter's again as she looked at the heavens above them, wondering where the missing time had gone, but he took her attention away from the sky when his fingers gently touched her cheek. She turned to look at him in wonder and he said softly,

"The other day—when you couldn't find your White Claudia and you came into Deep Holler? Your subconscious knew you were ready for the truth. It affected the flowers' growth, forcing you to venture to where I was. You were...seeking me out."

She smiled at him. "You sound touched in the head, Mr Walter."

"But you've seen the Otherside, so you know I speak the truth."

She nodded. "I believe what you're saying."

"The centre of the Lake has the soft spot between our worlds." He looked off into the distance and murmured, "Lake Reiden was _always_ the soft spot."

She dipped her fingers into the lake water, letting it drip off her fingers; it was slightly yellow and Astrid felt a strange word surface from within her.

"Cortexiphan."

A series of small wooden row boats appeared on the shore and the Wild Things began to step into them. Small blue and black frogs hopped along the rocky shore as Mr Walter offered a hand to help her into the boat; the amphibians crawled into the thick, tall grass surrounding the Lake, their small webbed feet pulling them out of sight. As the boats began to move on their own accord out into the lake, Astrid knelt down on the weather-worn wood, looking at the small glowing seahorses that floated beneath the surface in clusters, darting away as she leaned over to get a better view.

"How long have we been away?" Mr Walter asked the Wild Things and Astrid looked up at them.

The Wild Thing in the boat with them looked off in the distance for a moment, then said, "One hundred and thirty-four years, eighty-two days."

Mr Walter let out an irritated hiss and Astrid glanced between him and the Wild Things. "Is that bad?"

He gave her a half-hearted smile. "It's a long time."

"Long, long time?"

"Yes."

She reached up and patted his hand comfortingly. "We'll be right fine, Mr Walter."

In the centre of the lake was a small glowing shimmer, the palest yellow that made the yellow-tinged water of the lake glow as if it were molten gold. The boats directed themselves to the location and slowly they began to circle it. Astrid leaned over once more; she could see her reflection, her eyes widening when she realised her reflection was moving independently of her, her hands beckoning Astrid to enter the water. In fact, the closer she looked at the water's reflection, she could see that she was wearing the clothes that she so often saw herself wearing in her memories of the other world.

As the boats stopped moving, Astrid stood up.

The Mandrake men said in unison, "The exit of this universe is at the bottom of the lake."

"The Beacon," Mr Walter whispered and instantly the image of a strange silver cylinder popped into her head.

"You...the cylinder," she said, the words feeling thick and hard to say. "You had to protect it...we had to protect it." She looked at Mr Walter in shock. "You _drugged_ me."

He gave a dry smile. "As you can see, it's something of a nasty habit between us."

The Wild Things said in unison, "You protected her. The Rogue would have killed her if she had been awake."

"It's not important now." Mr Walter's hand took hers again. "Only your trust. Do you trust me?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand. "Yes."

One of the Wild Things had materialised a hat and put it on. "It has been activated and once you are within proximity of it, you will cross the gateway."

"Are you coming with us?" Astrid asked.

He stood up in the boat and as he adjusted his tie, said, "I do not need the exit."

His form slowly became less corporal and before she could properly count to ten, he had vanished like the mist.

"He is waiting on the Otherside. You must go," the other Mandrake men coaxed and Astrid and Mr Walter stepped out of the boat, onto the surface of the lake

Her eyes widened as they stood on the water.

"Are you ready?" Mr Walter asked her firmly.

"I am ready," she whispered.

Without warning the tension on the water's surface broke and she fell through. She thrashed out involuntarily, getting one last breath, unable to swim. As she began to sink into the black depths of the water, the surface of the lake disappearing slowly, she lost sight of Walter and she began to panic. Large bubbles of air churned out of her mouth as she tried to shout for him and painful she inhaled the icy water. As it rushed into her lungs, burning her throat, she could suddenly see glimmers in the blackness, yellow shadows that formed small glimpses of a life she had once had:

_Two sisters who'd been older than her and had been her best friends…_

_Graduating from university…_

_Olivia smiling at her..._

_Sharing lunch with Walter in the laboratory…_

_Calling her mother to tell her she'd been accepted into the FBI…_

_The afternoon her father brought home a puppy…_

_Sonia Francis crying at Charlie's funeral..._

_Peter giving her a high five as they solved a difficult equation…_

_The world around her flickering in and out as the two universes started to collide..._

_The earth quaking violently as their universe was becoming torn apart…_

_The first breath she'd taken, her new self resurrected in the pastures among the other bodies of Home…_

As she sank further into the water, she realised that this was it: she was going back home to the world that she truly belonged to. Her heart was beating painfully, as though her ribs were constricting it and she began to wonder if it was bruising against the hard bones.

Somewhere a memory was recalled and she could hear William Bell's voice in her mind, reminding her that—_"The body goes through a temporary death as it goes from universe to universe. That is why the body begins falls apart after it passes more than once between worlds."_—she was dying. She realised with morbid fascination that the last few moments she would spend in the world that had been built for her would be fighting her body's natural instincts to survive.

Her body began to numb and right as she was sure she was going to die at the bottom of the lake something below her glowed golden. Walter's form beside her was illuminated, glowing black and gold and she turned to him as they sank further towards the beautiful sun-like gateway. His hand reached out for hers and her fingers passed through his as if he were made of nothing more than smoke, but after a few more tries, their hands connected.

She couldn't feel him, but she knew they were touching and he smiled at her; she could see the hope in his eyes, that he was seeing and remembering visions of their former lives as well and she smiled as well, tightened her hold on his hand as the golden light enveloped them.


	11. Epilogue

**TITLE:**_ Home_

**PAIRING: **_Astrid/Walter, Peter/Olivia, August/Christine, Amy/Nick, Nina/Broyles, A. Mathis/ William Ferguson_

**CHARACTERS: **_Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Christine Hollis, August, September, the Child, December, July, William Ferguson, A. Mathis, William Bell, Nick Lane, Amy Jessup, Rachel Dunham, Ella Dunham, Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles, Krista Manning, Susan, Nancy_

**GENRE: **_Southern Gothic, Scifi, Fantasy, Alternate Universe_

**RATING: **_M_

**SUMMARY: **_Living in a mountain paradise called 'Home', isolated from the outside world, a handful of characters of the Fringeverse exist in perfect harmony. It is a primitive place without time or sin, where no one ages or dies, and no one has memories past the week before. The live by the unusual word of the Bible in their Church, warning them of the Wild Things that live in the Woods and of The Dreamlands past Lake Reiden. _

_However, Astrid is initiated into a dark secret about Home that the local recluse Walter has stumbled across, one that hints that the eden they all live in isn't their universe of origin. Faced with the temptation of knowing her previous life, Astrid is given the choice to remain blissfully unaware in their paradise or return to the universe she once belonged to._

_Short stories featuring the other character's lives within Home are interwoven throughout the main story all leading up to Astrid's final decision and what it will cost everyone._

**SONGS: **_"Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Bing Crosby, "Concerning the UFO Sightings Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens, "Say Darlin' Say" by Rising Appalachia, "Take Me to the Water" by Nina Simone_

**WARNINGS:** _Adult situations_

**SPOILERS: **_Season One, Season Two_

* * *

Pastor Bell walked along the shore of Lake Reiden as the morning sun began to rise, breathing in the cool air that smelt of pine needles. He liked listening to the soft lapping waves of the lake as it hit the rocky shore, finding it very meditative as he contemplated the Lord's mysterious ways.

This morning however, something was very different. Ahead of him on the shoreline he saw something quite out of place; the closer he got to it, he realised it was a pale, rumpled piece of clothing.

Pastor Bell picked up what he now recognised as a dress, puzzled. Surely one of the women hadn't come to the lake to wash? He scanned the water, looking for a sign of anyone in the lake, then turned his attention back to the piece of clothing. It was threadbare mauve...Miss Astrid's. Frantically, he began searching the shoreline for what else she might have dropped and saw other clothing up ahead; he began to walk quickly, picking up a pair of worn trousers, a dew covered sweater, and a faded plaid button-up. As he picked up the shirt, he recognised it immediately as Walter Bischoff's.

He carefully folded the clothing, holding them tight to himself. Could they have…? No, no, everyone knew that they weren't to enter the lake—it was too close to the Dreamlands, too close to Big Rock Candy Mountain. There was grave danger in entering the water and while it frightened him that someone might have _drowned_, he couldn't bring himself to believe that it had actually happened.

Something floating on the water's surface caught his attention and he watched it as it was slowly brought in by the lake's tide. It was the Lord's sign, the white tulip. He blew gently on the petals, drying it of the slightly yellow-hued lake water. It was a beautiful flower, a perfect one, but then, of course, _all_ of the Great and Almighty Lord's creations were perfect.

The clothes still close to his chest, he decided that if the Lord had left one of His signs for him to find, then it was not anything for him to question. Those two lambs that had been taken were obviously in the Lord's hands now and he didn't have to worry. He would miss both of them, but they were now serving the Lord on the Otherside.

Carefully placing the tulip in the buttonhole of his jacket's lapel, he smiled.

**THE END**


End file.
